Queen of the Swarm
by Vherstinae
Summary: With all the biohazards in the locker, blood poisoning was inevitable. Contamination was also to be expected. What happens when a dormant brew gets added to a parahuman at the exact moment of a trigger event?
1. Wishful Thinking

**A/N** – Okay, I promised another chapter of _Aftershocks_, but I just finished reading _Worm_ (parahumans dot wordpress dot com) and have been devouring fanfiction about this brilliantly-crafted world like Augustus Gloop and chocolate. After being mauled by plot bunnies, I got to pondering and figured some stuff out.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Worm_, nor do I own any other established properties – physical or intellectual – that I may reference. If I do own something, I will call it out. Otherwise, this is the only disclaimer I should need to post.

**Wishful Thinking 0.01**

What proof did he have that this would work? The rational part of his mind told him that it was a hoax; that what he'd been told – been _promised_ – was impossible. But he'd seen them, so many of them... It had to be true. Curiosity had turned to utter fascination, which had given way to obsession. He'd been sitting in the car for...he checked the clock. God, almost a half-hour spent hemming and hawing outside this old barn. If they were thieves, they could probably have snuck up on him while he waited. Maybe they were on the level after all? Either way, two minutes left to the appointment.

_Fuck it. Nothing ventured, nothing gained_. He shut off the engine and stepped out. Even though he'd resolved to go in, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up in apprehension.

"We'd thought you were going to leave, with how much time you spent outside."

She was just _there_. Standing off to the side as he opened the door was a rather nondescript, dark-skinned woman in a lab coat. He must have jumped upon noticing her, because she gave him a rather condescending smile, like a parent who'd found her child trying to eat Play-Doh.

"H-how–" He stopped, under the guise of composing himself. Of course she'd have powers. No reason to act like an idiot. "How did you even know how to contact me?"

The woman just smirked. "I'm tempted to say, 'We have our ways' and leave it at that. In truth, we saw your history: searching Parahumans Online, looking up sites that claim to give powers – all of them hoaxes, of course." She turned and started walking, something in her body language telling him to fall in step beside her. "You may call me Doctor; nothing more. And what do I call you?"

He quirked a brow, which then knitted together with its partner in consternation at her soft laugh.

"Yes, we know much about you, but we at Cauldron feel it's helpful to maintain at least some degree of anonymity."

He nodded. "Alright. Call me..." He just blurted out the first name that came to mind. "...Bill."

(BREAK)

It was time. Three visits to the Cauldron facility had served to introduce him to the process, calculate finances, and conduct the necessary physical and psychological tests. Now, it was finally time. He was seated, changed into the requisite bodysuit, and gripping the chair's armrests. Things were very tense, very real now.

As always, the Doctor was just _there_. She reminded him, in a way, of one of his mother's favorite movies: the original _Nutty Professor_, how Buddy Love would just be there in the room; he was never shown entering. He'd just appear. The Doctor was like that, only hotter and a LOT more intimidating. She wasn't big and never demonstrated any powers, but she radiated an almost palpable aura of danger and authority.

"Alright, Bill," she said in her quiet, businesslike tone, "let's finalize things." She actually had a clipboard in her hand; was that really necessary? Or was it just to keep up appearances? "You're aware of the risks inherent in this formula, of course. But policy demands that we restate. Sample V-one-seven-seven-three carries a high risk of visible mutation, along with an even higher chance of a null result; that is, failure to produce a power. Regardless of the outcome, from physical changes to no result whatsoever, you are agreed to keep these meetings secret. And also..." Was it Bill's imagination, or was there a ghost of a smirk on her face? "There are no refunds."

(BREAK)

A full hour had passed with Bill hooked up to the various medical monitors. Finally, the Doctor returned. "I'm afraid, Bill, that I must apologize. The sample did not result in any power acquisition. Fortunately, there were also no mutations." She unstrapped him and offered him a hand, her own grip surprisingly gentle. A conciliatory expression was painted on her features. "Good luck in your future endeavors, Bill. I hope that they are more successful than this venture was." She motioned him along. "Come; I'll show you to the changing room and you can get dressed again."

(BREAK)

Oddly, it was a relief. Sure, he hadn't gotten powers and was out about two-hundred grand, but he at least knew he'd tried.

Terry Clements walked a little higher as he headed back to his car.


	2. Spawn 01

**Spawn 1.01**

Madison couldn't stop giggling. So much so, in fact, that Emma had to tell her to go hide in the bathroom so she didn't give them away. Sophia was at the end of her rope, about ready to start beating on Madison. In fact, if it hadn't been for Emma arguing the girl's usefulness, Sophia probably would have hurt her.

Madison would have broken. She wasn't strong; not like Taylor was. Taylor had survived her mother's death. She could take the abuse and break free, just like Emma had. Like Sophia had. Then she'd be worthy, not just prey. Sophia, of course, just wanted to break Taylor; maybe even kill her. She was the ultimate predator. But Emma knew better: Taylor could learn from this. This would be her cocoon, and a better Taylor would emerge from it.

In truth, this was the most nuanced of their pranks. Usually Sophia came up with the ideas, or at least picked the ones they'd use from numerous possibilities offered by Emma and Madison. This one, however, was all Emma's brainchild and would, if successful, be the last in their campaign. She, Madison and Sophia had saved up all their pads and tampons for two months, and had stolen more from the school's bathrooms. The plan was months in the making, and now it would pay off.

The bell rang. Emma and Sophia ducked behind the rows of lockers, nodding their confirmation to one another. Taylor would be along soon, to change.

(BREAK)

Things were quiet. If I were more into cliches, I might have said they were too quiet. Very little laughing behind my back. No little smug glances from Emma or Madison, no murderous ones from Sophia. In fact, when I'd seen them, they were uncharacteristically solemn, barely looking at me. That had been when I'd first gotten to school. It was now PE, and still no bullying. It was like their terror campaign had just...ended. While I was still walking on eggshells, some part of me – something in my very soul – unclenched. For the first time in nearly two years, I allowed myself to hope again.

God, but it stank in here. The locker room always had a scent of mold; Winslow was sort of a shithole, as far as schools went, and not a day went by that I didn't curse myself for being such a goddamn good friend. If I'd just gone with my grades, tried a scholarship to Arcadia, I wouldn't be hounded by those evil bitches almost every day of my life. No, bad thoughts. Maybe Emma's dad sat her down, figured out what was going on. His dad and mine were old friends, after all. Maybe Emma shaped up and was ashamed of herself...

Fuck, my mind was wandering. But it had good reason to. I wanted to ignore that stink. God, had the janitors done _anything_ while Christmas break was on? Probably not. Holding my nose with one hand, I clumsily turned the combination and opened my locker.

A swarm of flies burst forth, their hairy, pointy legs tearing at my skin as they buzzed everywhere at once. My first instinct was to scream but I held it in, not even breathing out of fear they'd get in my lungs. Onto the floor dripped maggots and fetid slime, a thick mix of dark red and black-green chunks. Through the noxious fumes I could make out white objects stained red. Whatever they were, they must've been placed here before the holiday break. With the extra snow days from one of the worst ice storms to hit Brockton Bay in years, school hadn't been open in nearly a month. These things had been...rotting...for nearly a month.

I couldn't stop myself. I lurched over and vomited, so hard I couldn't even pause to inhale. It felt like my esophagus was being squashed together like an accordion, my voicebox trying to squeeze itself up out of my throat. I clutched my thighs, sobbing as best I could. My eyes burned, vision turning brown as I realized with horror that vomit was leaking from my tear ducts. The world swam before me and I had to fight to remain conscious.

I was jerked back to the real world when someone grabbed a fistful of my hair, jerking so hard it felt like my scalp would tear off. My ears buzzed from the pain of vomiting so hard, but I could recognize a hateful tone when I heard it.

_Sophia_.

It had to be her. Only she was this violent. Emma tortured me psychologically, and in the end that hurt the most, and Madison was a childish little fuck content to smear glue on my seat or steal my quiz answers. Sophia was the thug of the group. In the darkest recesses of my mind I thought that there might be some way to get Empire Eighty-Eight to kill her.

All of those thoughts whirled through my mind in the split-second it took for her to shove me into that churning nightmare, giving me a vicious kick to the spine to force me in the rest of the way before slamming the locker shut and spinning the lock. I couldn't even scream. I just whimpered in pain, the purest pain imaginable. It wasn't just physical pain; it was emotional, spiritual. Every last fucking cell in my body vibrated in sheer agony. My skinny frame sank down, legs giving out from the pain of the kick and feet slipping on the nightmare soup beneath me. I bit my lip hard enough to break the skin, tears and vomit seeping from my eyes and nose as the maggots bit into my flesh, delighted to have a new meal.

Pain, sadness and shame gave way to panic. I could die here. The maggots would eat into me, give me blood poisoning, and I'd die in this rotting filth. A primal scream I didn't even realize I was capable of tore from my lungs, launching more chunks of vomit into the air. I was too maddened with terror to even bother with the particles of upchuck that lodged my epiglottis open and leaked into my lungs. The locker was small, but I was skinny. I beat on the door with my hands and elbows, shrieked as loud as I could. I wasn't even sure if I was articulating words, but the sheer primal fear in my voice should've clued some people in.

Instead, I heard laughter. Not just the voices of my tormentors, but of others. They knew I was in here. They could see the filth and maggots pooled in front of my locker, so they would have to know I was in here with something rotting. And they were _laughing_.

I hurled my body against the locker door, all of my ninety-some pounds moving several inches to impact it. Again and again. I felt the bites, felt the things crawling INSIDE me. I was dead and I knew it. No matter what happened, I would die here. My only chance was to get free, to publicly blame Emma, Sophia and Madison. I wasn't going to let them get away with murdering me.

Most people black out. For me, my vision went white.

(BREAK)

Destination.

Agreement.

Trajectory.

Agreement.

Concern.

Confidence.

Renege?

Denial. Destination.

...Agreement.

(BREAK)

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Bip. Bip. Bip."

For whatever reason, my first vocalization upon returning to consciousness was to imitate the EKG. Needless to say, when I realized this, I stopped.

My dad's eyes fluttered open. He looked like shit, and smelled like a homeless person. Jesus, his clothes looked terrible too, and I was far enough away that he was a little blurry. Had...had he been here the whole time? How long was "the whole time"?

"Taylor!" He kept his voice down, and I was thankful. My head felt like someone had split it in two with an axe and then put it back together with tape. His hand was on mine and it felt like he'd break it. I winced and looked down at myself.

Oh. My. Fuck. I was skeletal. I looked like the pictures psychiatrists would post online to scare people away from the "pro-ana" lifestyle. I rasped, but no words came out. Apparently I was stuck just making little pops of air.

"Bip." I couldn't help myself from smiling, even at how horrible the situation was. That was just too absurd. Dad smiled too, and tears just started pouring down his face. For a moment I saw them as brown, chunks of vomit and blood mixed in, before my...flashback? Vision? Whatever. Before I shook it off and saw my crying father again.

"Are...are you alright? Can you understand me?"

I pondered a moment, then gave my head a shake as best I could, followed by a nod. He seemed to get it.

"What do you need?"

I let go of his hand to mime typing on a keyboard. Oh god, my fingers looked like spiders' legs, albino spiders' legs. Again, I was back in the locker. I had to grit my teeth as hard as I could to keep from screaming. Thankfully, dad understood and patted my hand, bringing me back into the real world. He pushed the nurse call button.

(BREAK)

While my dad negotiated with the nurse to get a laptop or smartphone or _anything_ I could use to type – I didn't trust my hands enough to hold a pen – I was doing my utmost not to get lost in my own mind. I could feel them, in the walls. The bugs were there, coming to get me. I could feel them crawling inside me, the maggots who got in.

Oh god, god, oh fucking god. They were going to eat me. They were going to burst from my chest like fucking _Alien_ and–

_No._ I forced my mind to a halt. _I will NOT give in! They will not break me_. It was all in my head, just like the flashbacks. I was just imagining it. I could feel them crawling all around me, but it was just in my mind. I just needed to center myself, needed to just _stop_.

...Whoa.

My inner monologue suddenly took on Keanu Reeves' timbre. When I thought "stop," I could feel it. All of the bugs I felt around me, they froze. I could still feel them standing there like they'd been touched in a game of freeze tag.

_Um, go?_

With that thought, the bugs resumed their scuttling. It took me longer than it should have to process that. My excuse was that I was suffering from PTSD. I tried again: _Stop_. Then, after a few seconds, _Go_. It worked. I tuned out my dad as he debated some bureaucratic bullshit over not giving outside electronics to patients, closed my eyes, and focused.

It was like a switch had been flipped. I wasn't afraid anymore. I had control. For the first time in so long, I had control. And I controlled something that had previously frightened me. My mind reached further, and I could catalog the different kinds of bugs. Houseflies, hiding in crevices of the kitchen brickwork. Spiders in the ducts. Earthworms and cockroaches burrowing around beneath the foundation. Bees outside, happily pollinating the flowers. Butterflies getting drinks. I started to focus outside, and I could feel the cute ones. Fuzzy, round little bumblebees, all black and yellow, sipping nectar and getting pollen stuck to their adorable fluff. Ladybugs flitting here and there, hunting aphids and protecting the flowers. Beautiful butterflies drifting lazily on air currents, landing only to take a sip and move along. I felt a mosquito wing its way in through the ducts and make a beeline for my dad. With a thought, I sent it back into the air system and to a spiderweb. Fuck you, mosquito.

My eyes snapped back open. That had been reflexive. It hadn't taken any effort on my part at all. Even now, I could sense them all. I could _control_ them all. And I knew them all. Sixty-seven thousand, four hundred twenty-two bugs, worms and assorted creepy-crawlies I had in...whatever range it was. I could feel every single one, and I instinctively _knew_ I could command every single one to undertake a different action with only minimal concentration.

The nurse must've noticed my eyes open again, because she gave me a conspiratorial smile. I held in my surprise. Did she know? Did she have powers too? She came closer so I could really make out her face, setting a slightly tanned hand on my skeletal, alabaster one. She was pretty yet plain, sort of like I was, I guess. Somehow that little connection comforted me. "Okay," she said in a hushed voice, looking between dad and me, "I'm not technically supposed to do this, but if anybody deserves it, you do." She unclipped her own smartphone and presented it to me while calling up the keyboard. "Here you go, sweetie."

I smiled at her, wincing a little as my dehydrated lips stretched across bone-dry gums. Thank god my fingers still worked. I typed quickly. _Thank you_. I paused a moment. _What's your name?_

She smiled. "I'm Shelby. I'll leave you two alone." She stepped out.

I looked over to dad. _How long have I been out?_

His smile suddenly faded. "You've...you've been in a coma. For a week." He looked like he wanted to say more, but was gathering his thoughts. I let him. He'd had a week of worries and questions. "Taylor...god, sweetie, what happened? You never told me you were being bullied, but this thing doesn't just happen as a one-off. What's been going on?"

I couldn't keep the tears from falling. _Since last year. Emma's been the one. Her, Sophia Hess and Madison Clements. They've been torturing me._

I could see the bulge in dad's temple as he clenched his jaw, reining in his temper. He'd pretty much had to develop one as part of the Dockworkers' Union, but it wouldn't do to scream at his daughter in the hospital. Okay, that wasn't giving him enough credit. He did his best not to yell even in my presence. "Taylor...why didn't you tell me?" The question was simple, but goddamn did the disappointment in his voice hurt.

_You couldn't have done anything_, I typed. _You were still hurting from mom. You'd have driven yourself insane and we'd have been destroyed financially. The Barnes'_ (I wasn't sure about the plural, but fuck it) _are rich. I thought things were going to be better, that maybe Mr. Barnes had set Emma straight_.

Dad draped himself over me and just cried. He cried and I could feel everything. Mom, his helplessness, his wish for a better life for me. It was like the concepts themselves were spilling from his eyes.

(BREAK)

The next day I was due for discharge. Before that, however, the doctor and Nurse Shelby took my dad into a separate room, apparently to tell him the full extent of my injuries now that I was conscious and recovering.

Over the night I'd experimented with my bugs – I'd already come to think of them as my bugs – to see what I could do. The best way I could use them was for the sense of touch, giving me a very good idea of where someone was. But it was as I was falling asleep that I got another revelation: when I was zoned out, half-asleep or otherwise not thinking entirely as a human, it was easier to hear through them. Maybe because my bugs' brains were so basic that my own brain needed to be working at less than full efficiency to understand the signals.

With that in mind, I let my vision go glassy and just slumped in the bed, going as close to braindead as I could consciously manage. The hardest part was keeping this state – this fugue – while maintaining enough state of mind to understand what was being said. I still had a long way to go, but maybe I'd get lucky. I drifted off, my consciousness slipping into the bugs around my dad.

"...the IV drip almost every hour. Mister Hebert, that's not natural. It's supposed to drip, naturally flowing into the bloodstream over hours. This is like a vacuum was hooked up to the needle and sucked it all out."

"Yes, doctor," my dad said, his voice a little strained from frustration, "but what does that _mean_?"

"Honestly? I..." The voice faded, my focus coming back into the present. I stared at the ceiling and tried to get back into the mindset. Everything buzzed for a moment, my bugs trying to tell me what they were hearing. "...real injuries, thankfully. I don't know how it's possible, but other than some superficial bruising, there's no damage. The vast majority is psychological." I heard the doctor take a breath. "You know that, now that she's conscious, they'll try to press charges."

My father literally snarled. "They can try. Doctor, I need you to give me a full write-up of her coma and psychotic break. I want hard evidence against _anything_ these fuckers bring up."

I could only presume the doctor nodded, because Shelby spoke up. "I'm usually a good judge of character. Taylor seems like a sweet girl, just from how the two of you interact. We'll help you, Mr. Hebert."

Huh, that was new. People actually being good human beings. I guess the shock of that, that there actually were decent folks in the world, must've gotten to me, because I slipped from partial consciousness to full unconsciousness.

(BREAK)

I woke up to my dad petting my hair. At least that was still there. I may have been even paler than before, and my lack of curves had pretty much transformed to a concave body shape from malnutrition, but my long ringlets of black hair always made me feel beautiful.

"Hey, baby girl," he smiled at me. "Feeling a little better?"

I nodded and managed to rasp out, "Yeah. Could use a drink, though." My voice was so ragged I thought I'd start spitting up dust bunnies.

Shelby came in wearing a wide smile and carrying a folded-up wheelchair. As she opened it up, I saw a manila folder had been tucked into it. She handed that to my dad with a knowing nod, then the pair of them helped me into it and covered me with a blanket. I was only in a hospital gown and some disposable underwear, so the blanket preserved my modesty as well as kept me warm.

Dad walked alongside me as Shelby wheeled me through the hospital, and had taken to nicknaming me Janis due to my raspy voice. He kept jokingly prodding me to start singing, "Take A Piece of My Heart." I responded by swatting at him. Despite my feigned annoyance, we were both smiling more than we had since we'd lost mom. Somehow, all of this horror had brought us closer together.

We were going to be okay.


	3. Spawn 02

**Spawn 1.02**

Emma, Sophia and Madison were monsters. If any of them had powers, I could see them fitting in well with the Slaughterhouse 9 in a few years. But I almost wanted to thank them. My dad and I were closer than ever. Maybe reality hadn't set in yet, because I was still on bedrest from my ordeal. Dad hadn't contacted Alan Barnes, hadn't threatened to sue the school.

As for me, my recovery was like lightning. Within a few days I had filled out to my usual gangly self, but hadn't stopped there. We hadn't been able to pay for physical therapy, so dad had me on a light exercise regimen, and I was somehow building some muscle tone. Maybe before I got back to school, I'd start running. My biggest squee moment, however, had been when I'd discovered I might actually need a bra. Sure, it was only an A-cup, but I wasn't so painfully flat anymore. And with the bit of tush I'd developed from muscle tone, I actually felt like a teenage girl instead of some genderless mannequin. Sure, my three tormentors were still radically more developed than me, Emma especially, but I didn't need to be some pin-up model. Just feeling like I had a gender was enough.

The only thing that had me worried was my power. I wasn't certain I wanted to tell my dad. I wanted, needed to make the world a better place. I needed to use my power, and I knew he'd worry if I told him. We'd already lost mom; he might try to forbid me from being a hero in an attempt to keep me safe. We'd just reconnected, and this power was part of me. I couldn't just _not_ use it. I couldn't help but wonder if this was what gay kids felt when debating whether they should come out to their parents.

This was all just too much stress. I was tired from just thinking about all the ways it could go wrong. As I laid in bed, I watched a fly buzz around my room. Feeling bored, I decided not to control it and just watch what it would do naturally. It landed on my hand and I just blinked at it. Did it not realize that I could take away its autonomy with a thought? Or was it trying to be my friend so I wouldn't?

Jesus, I knew I was paranoid about other people, but was I now second-guessing a fly's motivations? I just wanted the stress to go away.

Like before, a switch seemed to flip in my mind. This time freaked me out a lot more. The fly just dissolved and melted into my skin. I just sat there, utterly stunned. My mind whizzed as I suddenly understood every aspect of the fly's physiology. I got it down to the cellular level. I started to wonder... With a thought, I summoned another fly and held it in my hand. I focused on the critter, willed it to change. Nothing. I focused harder, all of the information whirling through my brain, to the point I expected my hair to catch fire. Still nothing. I laid back and let out a huff of frustration, giving it up as a lost cause. Then the fly dissolved.

My brain was assaulted again, though it was easier this time. Fewer new bits of information, only the variations between this fly and the last one. Then came the changes. I improved its mitochondria, streamlined its nervous system. The single tiny eye in its ass expanded to a full compound eye for better protection, and I added a second pair of wings like a dragonfly to reduce energy expenditure. I nixed the reproductive system to save mass and reduce its need to eat. Finally, on a whim, I shrank it to the size of a gnat so it could be a better spy.

When I came to after this whirlwind of thought, I realized it had all taken place in only a few seconds. So, where was this new fly? I held out my hand, expecting it to melt into being. Instead, I got a strange urge to vomit. It didn't feel painful or unnatural like usual, nor did it remind me of the locker. My throat clenched up, and I coughed out something into my hand. The tiny glob of purple slime twitched, something crawling out from the center. It was my fly, the one I'd designed. I could feel it just like any other bug, but somehow I could still feel the presence within me. I had the blueprint filed away in my mind. Could I...?

At that thought, I coughed again, spitting out another fly. I focused on it and realized it was identical to the one I'd already made. With a thought I absorbed my new creations, and the weird purple placenta-slime-whatever that came with them, back into my body. No, that's not right. I'd generated them but I hadn't expended anything to do so. Somehow these flies were mass added to me, rather than extracted and returned. My brain whirled with the new possibilities. Immediately I called one of each kind of bug in my range, and I absorbed them all. The mass flowed into me and, though I didn't understand how, I instinctively sent it to my muscle fibers. The addition was negligible, but I did feel just a tiny bit stronger. I tried, but, no. I couldn't move the mass once I'd allocated it.

More importantly, however, were the thoughts in my mind. Just as I could control each and every one of the bugs in my range, my brain was churning with countless possible combinations. Somehow, though, I knew none of them would breed true. Like mules, they would be rendered sterile. This allowed me to eliminate the reproductive systems, giving me more possibilities for alterations and streamlining. The ideas that came to mind were monstrous: a mosquito that could inject targets with spider silk, creating blood clots; a hercules beetle with venom sacs in its pincers, able to pierce thicker skin and inject potent spider venom; a dragonfly that could perform kamikaze bombings with high-pressure mixes of venom and stinkbug spray. The ideas kept coming, kept refining.

I was starting to get a headache. Just because I could invent all of these ideas didn't mean that trying to understand every nuance even while I was further improving the concepts didn't get confusing and overbearing. I pushed it into the background, just like I'd learned to do with my bugs. I could leave the insects on autopilot, a technique I'd developed out of necessity. If there's a new cape who uses bugs and all the bugs in an area freeze in place every night, it'd be pretty easy for villains to figure out who was behind the mask.

I rolled over and went to sleep. I'd figure things out tomorrow.

(BREAK)

I woke up feeling much better. The ideas seemed to have refined themselves and I had just a handful of recipes that had apparently met my unconscious mind's approval. I had to admit, they were pretty impressive. A hybrid of a mantis and hercules beetle for causing pain, a spider-dragonfly for spreading thread, and a few others that impressed me a little less but were probably more utilitarian. The weirdest thing, but which made sense as I thought about it, was that their senses were heightened. I'd given them additional brain mass for sight and hearing, using the extra space from their removed reproductive organs to add that hind brain. With just a bit of focus I realized that these senses would gel better with my human mind: I wouldn't need to zone out as much to sense through them.

I willed myself to spit out one of those mantis-beetles so I could see how it'd work, but my throat locked up. It was like trying to swallow something too big, but in reverse. Nothing would come. I couldn't feel my stomach roiling with whatever nastiness had enveloped the flies.

Well, shit. I'd invented superbugs, but I couldn't make them. Lovely. Oh well, thank god for small favors. I could still control the bugs around me. They'd do for now. I sat up and felt something weird on my head. Had I let bugs perch on it overnight or something? I stretched, feeling my restored physique – yes, I was still excited about that. I was fifteen, sue me – and looked back to the pillow to make sure I hadn't squished any. There weren't any bugs. Instead, my entire head of hair lay on the pillow.

"Daaaaaad!"

(BREAK)

My father had come in to quite a sight: his daughter, strikingly bald, hyperventilating and gawking at her hair all over the pillow. After I'd babbled and cried into his shoulder for a while, I managed to calm down enough to try to explain.

"...So you're a parahuman," he said. It wasn't really a question. "You triggered in the locker." Again, a statement, just to confirm it for himself. "And you can control bugs?" Now it was a question.

"Not just control them," I clarified. "Watch this." I closed my eyes and flipped a mental rolodex back to my first experiment, that modified fly. It wasn't flashy, but it was proof. I hocked it up and spat the violet glob into my hand, letting the fly-thing squirm free. "I can make bugs. I can...see how they work and create new ones. The problem is, the ones I came up with, the best ones? I can't make them for some reason." They melted back down, soaking in through my pores. A crazy idea had me send this mass to my ocular nerves, maybe to shore up my nearsightedness. Maybe it was a placebo effect, but my sight might have improved ever so slightly.

My father was dumbstruck. "I... That's amazing. Kind of creepy, no offense, but amazing. You can make living creatures!"

I shook my head. "Nothing like Nilbog. I can't give them functional brains. They have very, very basic mental processes, maybe inferior to real bugs. Maybe I'll be able to do more in the future." I ran my hand over my pristine scalp. "I still have no idea why I lost my hair, though."

Dad wrapped his arms around me. That little act of approval meant the world to me and I melted into his embrace. "Well, you absorbed the bugs, and bugs don't really have hair. Maybe...you're getting some bug traits?"

I turned a little green at that. I might not have a problem with bugs anymore, but I didn't want compound eyes or a mosquito mouth. "I really hope not. Or if I do, maybe I can influence it. I mean, some beetle armor around my vital organs would be nice. Or spider strength like those Earth-Aleph comics." I turned back to the matter at hand. "But what about my hair? I can't just go around bald!"

My dad would openly admit he wasn't as smart as mom was. He even said that I was smarter than him; that he was better educated, but once that was no longer the case I'd outpace him in the brains department. However, where I'd gotten my shyness from him, he'd learned enough from mom to understand people fairly well. When pressed, he could put up a forceful personality. "This...actually might not be a bad thing." At my incredulous look, he elaborated. "Look, if a new hero shows up using bugs, is about Taylor Hebert's height and build, and has her long, beautiful hair," I tried to suppress my grimace at the fact that I no longer had my long, beautiful hair, "what are people going to think? Someone's bound to put two and two together. But, if Taylor Hebert still has her long, beautiful hair and this new cape seems bald..." He grinned. "We have all your hair right here. We can get a wig made, find somebody who won't talk or pay them extra not to."

Here, my mind took over. "No, we don't need somebody to make a wig. Don't be scared," I added as he raised a questioning brow. I called a swarm of wasps and black widow spiders to me, reaching over to crack the window so they could come in. All in all, dad was taking things amazingly well. He barely shivered at all when confronted with the procession of dangerous creepies. I had the spiders start weaving their gossamer on nothing in particular, then the wasps began chewing it up, mixing it into a super-concrete with their saliva...or whatever bugs have. I knew what it was, but instinctively knowing didn't mean I could name it. The widows went to my hair, gathering it up to the shape of my head and weaving their silk through it. The wasps crawled into the locks from the other side, spitting their creation into my tresses. It dried clear, pasted down like hair glue. The silk would be soft to the touch and comfortable, and I could use sticky webbing to help adhere it to my head.

Dad watched in fascination. "...Hey," he finally said, "remember when we saw that special on civil engineering and scientists were working on mass-producing artificial spider silk?" I nodded, not quite getting where he was going with this. Then again, I was focusing on getting my head shape just right. If I was successful, it would look exactly like natural hair. "Well," he continued, "you've got excellent control of those spiders, and their silk is supposed to be tougher than kevlar at a fraction of the weight. How about you make a costume with them?"

He was caught off-guard as I bowled him over with a hug.

(BREAK)

Monday rolled around and it was time for me to go back to school. I'd managed to catch up on all my assignments over the weekend, with the help of some special bugs.

An interesting thing to note about humans is that there really isn't such a thing as multitasking. If we try to do more than one thing at once, we sacrifice efficiency for versatility. Same thing was basically true for capes and powers, actually. Sometimes you got somebody like Alexandria who seemed to get the best stuff, but most of the time capes with a wider array of powers had ones that were, individually, much weaker than somebody who had only one power.

I didn't have the multitasking problem. Some aspect of my power granted me the ability to devote 100% of my focus to every task, no matter how many there were, as long as my senses could handle them. With my eyeball bugs there to read the textbooks, hercules beetles to help hold the pencils and ants to move them, I was writing papers for three different classes all at once. Any more than that and I couldn't focus on the answers. Bugs were a lot simpler than Jane Eyre.

So I walked into Winslow with my head held high. I had power. I had control. My relationship with my father was so much better. Sure, the parts of me that had been beaten down over the multi-year hate campaign told me I was a monster, something horrific and aberrant. In fact, my very primal being would tell me that in the dark of night. But I'd survived the hate, thought of myself that way even before I triggered. I just quashed the thoughts and moved forward. I was better than my bullies. I had always been better morally and now I was better physically too. Yeah, it was petty but I think I'd earned a little pettiness by that point.

First period was Social Studies with Mr. Gladly, or "Mr. G" as he preferred to be known. Gladly always kept his tie partly undone and wanted to be friends with all the cool kids. If he wasn't such a dick I might have pitied him, but his trying to get into Emma Barnes' good books automatically put him out of mine. Okay, that might've been too petty. He might just be a sad little man who didn't realize what was going on, or ignored it because he wanted so badly to be accepted. It didn't make him a good person if true, but it would also not make him a bad one. I took my seat and got out my homework, feeling confident.

True to form, the Bitches of Eastwick slipped in just before the bell. Emma gave me a smug little grin that just promised future torment and it was everything I could do not to lunge from my seat and beat her to death with it.

Wow, that was violent. Was that the primal insect brainwaves? I looked back at my desk and noticed my homework was gone. Madison was handing it in and gave me a little wave as she went back to her seat. That _bitch_! I closed my eyes and centered myself, focusing on my bugs. I didn't control them, just took a headcount. That was calming for me, knowing I was part of something so much bigger than school; so much bigger than _them_.

I drifted in and out as Gladly waxed poetic about the founding of the PRT and Protectorate, mostly thinking about whether I should join the Wards. Maybe I should join New Wave instead. Yes, the PRT had funding and New Wave was mostly a family affair, but they had Panacea. She was a healer, and probably the most accomplished biological cape after Bonesaw of the 9. I'd love to pick her brain.

Gladly started to erase the whiteboard. "Alright everyone, read up on the Wards program for tomorrow. Hebert, can I see you for a moment?"

The snide comments were what I'd expected. "He's probably gonna tell her what a failure she is." "Maybe she's blowing him to try and get a good grade." I tuned them out and stepped up to his desk. He waited until everyone else was out.

"Taylor, do you think I'm blind?"

I just blinked. "You're going to have to elaborate, sir."

"I can see you're being bullied. Why aren't you doing anything?" He fixed me with a sympathetic look.

The Taylor from before the locker would have just ducked her head and suffered, crushed under the knowledge that no-one who could help cared, and no-one who cared could help. I wasn't that girl anymore. "The better question is why aren't _you_ doing anything?" I bit the words out at him. "Your question is like a cop on-scene asking a mugging victim why he didn't defend himself," I continued before he could try to placate me. "You're a teacher. You're supposed to help your students. If you see actions like that, why don't you say something? Or is being one of the cool kids more important to you than actually _doing your job_?" It took so much effort to keep my swarm in place. They wanted to respond to my emotions, to tear him apart as best they could.

He just stared me down, his expression having gone cold. "That will be all, Taylor."

I didn't even dignify him with a response. I just stalked out. Right into the Terror Trio. **Fuck**.

"I wonder what Mr. G wanted," Madison asked to her friends, though it was directed at me, "a quickie?"

"Probably," Sophia agreed. "I mean, look at the little whore, stuffing her bra to try to look remotely like a girl."

"I'd hoped she wouldn't come back," Emma piped up. "You'd think she'd realize nobody wants her here. She's ugly, stupid and everyone hates her."

Gladly just walked past. He eyed me but kept going, despite having clearly heard the insults. Well fuck him and fuck them too. Just because I wasn't going to use my powers, I wasn't going to let these cunts walk all over me.

"Really, girls?" I spoke with a confident smile. "This from the prepubescent," I settled my gaze on Madison, "the bimbo," Emma, "and the thug?" I stopped at Sophia, holding her gaze. She was fairly tall, but I had a couple of inches on even her. I took advantage of that and loomed as best as my still admittedly gangly frame could manage. "I figure Madison here plays up the schoolgirl angle for whichever teachers are pedophiles in the classes where she can't simply _steal the homework_," I sneered, "since obviously she's too fucking stupid to succeed otherwise." I raised my voice to a brief shout, cutting off Emma's retort. "But Emma here's the most pitiful. Just because she has tits and her daddy has money, she thinks she's queen of the school. I'll see you in twenty years, Barnes, when I'm wealthy from my own achievements and you're a silicone-filled trophy wife. Or maybe you'll get lucky, fuck a celebrity, and get the time slot after the Kardashians."

For once, the crowd was silent. The victim was finally striking back, and hitting _hard_. They were waiting to see which side they should support. Fucking lemmings. I let my eyes drift back to Sophia. "And Hess, I can't even pity you. You're a violent, hateful thug who can run fast. You're pretty much every argument E88 has against blacks. Maybe I should let Kaiser know where your family lives." My voice took on an exceedingly dangerous tone. "You tried to kill me. It's only fair I return the favor, with interest, isn't it?" I watched the color drain and return the Sophia's face, her mind warring between fear and outrage. "But I won't," I continued. "Because I'm better than you. You have to hurt other people just to validate your own existence. I have a father who loves me and grades good enough to get into Arcadia. Maybe I should transfer and leave you all here in this shithole, just like you left me in that locker. So no, I'm not going to get you back for all of the evil things you've done to me. But I won't take any more abuse." I stepped into Sophia's personal space, flexing up what little muscle I'd built. Amazingly, from what I could see of myself from my bugs' eyes, my skinny frame actually made me look more ripped. "You come after me, or my family, and I will hurt you. I'll make you know the fear and pain I suffered as the maggots ate into my veins and I bled into that filth, knowing I would die." I pushed past her, elbowing Emma and Sophia. "This is your only warning," I spat as I left.

I managed to keep my composure – barely – until I made it to the bathroom. I ducked into a stall, locked it and sat down before choking down a sob. How had I done that? I'd been terrified the entire time. Surprisingly, the answer came to me. They didn't matter. My happiness mattered, my dad's happiness mattered. We were good people and we deserved peace. And, just like the Protectorate, we might have to fight to achieve that peace.

My stomach started churning, violently. I hopped off the toilet and turned, disgust welling within me as I was forced to grab the seat. I vomited a flood, a constant gush of that purple slime. It was thicker than before, more like pudding than chunky water. I shakily flushed the toilet as the bowl began to fill, but it continued to spew from me. How did I have this much in me? I could feel more churning, not just my stomach. My entire abdominal region was rearranging itself under my skin. The vomit finally stopped and I flushed for a third time, swallowing down the last of the residue. Oddly, it felt fine to swallow. None of the disgust or burning that typical barf brought with it. More than that, it felt filling, like a hearty meal. That was freaky, but I was a girl who could hock up bugs like others could spit loogies. It wasn't _that_ bizarre. Hell, placenta was supposed to be nutritious, or at least that's what those crazy moms who claimed it should be eaten said. Maybe the same was for that goop.

I heard laughter. I recognized the laughter. "I knew you were a pussy, Hebert," Sophia said. "Just more prey. You tried to talk tough but you couldn't even make it to next period without puking your guts out. You're worthless."

Emma joined in. "Yeah, and I'll bet now you're gonna go cry yourself to sleep for two more weeks."

That was it. Something was pulled to its limit and snapped. I flung the door open. I idly noted, as I took control of my bugs again, that the bathroom door was open and people were peering in. And still no fucking teachers.

"Oh my god," Madison giggled, "she really is crying!"

Tears spilled freely down my cheeks. I didn't bother to wipe them, letting the salty droplets spatter on the floor. "You're using _my mother's death_ against me?" My voice was sharp, accusing, dangerous. That little voice in the back of my head, the one that kept telling me I was an abomination, was silent. I'd seen true inhumanity. "Emma Barnes, you are a _monster_." The word was stressed to the degree that I imagined it's how the Spanish Inquisition would name someone a heretic. I'd said my peace. Nothing more needed to be expressed. I went to push past them again. Instead, Sophia planted her hand on my sternum and used her entire body weight to shove me back. I stumbled and my back cracked against the toilet pipes. Pain shot through me and for a moment I was worried she'd broken my spine.

Sophia was already on me. She grabbed me by the shoulders, then pulled a hand back to punch me square in the eye. Blood vessels burst and half my vision was red. She tugged me up and threw me against the toilet again. Those hands gripped my shoulders once more and the feral part of my brain took over. I grabbed her arms and pulled her closer, smashing the crown of my skull into her nose. I hauled myself up with her arms, then let go and planted a clumsy kick in her strong abdominals. Still, strength born of desperation and fury sent her practically flying out of the stall, her head impacting the sink. I could feel hot blood dripping out of my eye socket and I turned to the gawking crowd.

"Well!? Someone call the fucking cops!"

I turned back as Sophia started to struggle to her feet. I didn't want to kick her again; she could pull my foot out from under me. She wobbled a little, maybe concussed, so I decided to play on that. I didn't know how to throw a punch to save my life, so instead I delivered a vicious slap to the side of her head. I grabbed a tangle of her hair just as she had mine before shoving me in the locker. My intentions were more immediate, however. I slammed her head into the sink again and let her drop like a sack of rice.

Whimpering caught my attention. I turned to see Madison crouched on the ground, covering her ears, eyes squeezed shut. Good god, she really was just a little kid, wasn't she? But Emma still stood, arms folded under that damn ample bust of hers, a fucking smile on her face. Was that a smile of...pride? "What the fuck are you grinning about!?" I stalked toward her, my bloodlust growing. I was going to kill her and damn the consequences. She must have realized that as her expression turned to fear and she started to back away. Then two school rent-a-cops grabbed my arms, one of them lodging a billy club under my chin and making me choke.


	4. Spawn 03

**Spawn 1.03**

No matter what that damn skeleton of a principal demanded, no matter how loud she yelled, I refused to speak without my father present. I figured if this was an analogue to some crime drama, dad was a fair substitute for my lawyer. Of course, the monsters had an actual lawyer in the form of Alan Barnes.

Of course, once my father had arrived, things were even more tense. Two generations of former friends, on opposite sides of a very real conflict.

"Miss Hebert," Principal Blackwell glared down at me along her knifelike nose, her tuft of white-blonde hair ringing her head like some sort of oversized mushroom, "attacking another student is a very serious offense."

"Fucking right it is," I spat. "So why are you telling this to the victim rather than the perpetrator?"

Her glare hardened. "You _are_ the perpetrator, Miss Hebert."

"Bullshit."

"I'd thank you not to use such offensive language, Miss."

"And I'd thank _you_ not to defend criminals, _Ma'am_." I couldn't keep the snarl out of my voice. "On whose word am I the perpetrator?"

"On Miss Barnes, Hess and Clements' word," she said matter-of-factly.

My dad tried to speak up but the fury was boiling within me. I replied before he could get a syllable out. "And are you taking their word because there are more of them? Or is it because Emma's dad is rich and Sophia's a track star? Justice, Principal, is supposed to treat everyone equally. The shy girl might not be as valuable to you, but are you actually going to sit there and insist that these three utter _psychopaths_ are guiltless?" I stood and slapped my hands onto her desk. "How about you ask the dozen-plus other students who witnessed the fight in the bathroom? How about you ask the teachers? Mr. Gladly for one admitted he knew I was being bullied, though he also admitted he'd do jack fuck about it." At this, my dad's face became even harder.

Alan Barnes spoke up. "Winslow High School had originally declined to press charges against Taylor after her attack on the school staff last month, but with this now, I'll be representing the school in a civil suit against you as well as filing criminal charges against your daughter for her vicious and unfounded attack on my daughter's friend, Danny."

"You mean the panic attack she suffered after _nearly dying_ in a locker full of biological waste, Alan? They had to clean it out with a hazmat team! And ask your daughter's _friend_ how my own daughter got the very distinct imprint of the toilet pipe's screw in her back if she attacked Sophia and shoved her out of the stall?"

"Mr. Hebert," Blackwell interjected, "we just want this to go away. We won't press charges or counter-suits if you just agree not to press your own charges or suits."

"Danny, any court case like that will be fraught with numerous depositions, motions, counter-motions, hearings, and all of those cost money. Are you willing to bankrupt yourself as well as having Taylor sent to juvenile detention?"

My dad looked ready to lunge. Alan Barnes was bigger and more muscular than my dad, but dad was with the dockworkers almost every day. He was wiry. He could win, but a fistfight would prove nothing. I placed my hand on his arm and very gently gripped him. I turned back to Blackwell. "Alright, we'll drop the charges if you'll give us a single concession. You don't want any more of these fights. Transfer me to Arcadia. I have the grades, and you get to keep your track star."

The principal shook her head. "The waiting list for Arcadia is already hundreds of names long. We can't demand a fast-track just because of one bad apple with delusions of grandeur."

I just squeezed dad's arm harder, partly to keep him from flying off the handle and partly to keep my own hackles from rising. I stood. "Fuck you very much for taking time out of your day, then." I turned back to the trio and their wealthy backer. "Sophia, I'm considering rescinding my earlier mercy." I decided to just let her figure that out on her own. I slipped my hand into dad's and led him out. "Take me home," I said in a voice that was as small as I felt at that moment.

(BREAK)

The drive had been silent, both of us stewing in our bile. When we got home I took dad's hand again, led him to the couch, and fell against him. I let myself sob. He did as well, running his fingers through my hair. Eventually the wig came loose and fell off, which just made us both cry harder. I don't know how long it was before we'd cried out enough pain to speak rationally.

"Why didn't you fight, Taylor?" he whispered, apparently not trusting his voice not to crack. I didn't blame him.

"Because they'd win. The law always shits on the little people. Because it'd be so easy for me to whip E88 into a frenzy and get Sophia's whole family killed, but I'm not a monster like them. Because we don't have to be the little people." At his curious expression, I continued, idly running my finger over the bloody tear stains from my wounded left eye. "I have powers. If I join the Wards, they'll move me to Arcadia. I can make a difference, be a better person, and be free. We won't have to deal with those evil people any more. We just have to be good people," I mumbled into his chest.

(BREAK)

I must have cried myself to sleep, because I woke up the next morning in bed with a makeshift tissue bandage over my left eye. I got dressed and walked downstairs. After hugging dad, I told him to call the PRT and set up an appointment.

"Now? Taylor, you're still hurt."

I hoped that my retort sounded more resolute than defiant. "The sooner I get inducted, the sooner I can get the fuck out of that hellhole." I realized after the fact that I was using very strong language around my father. He was either too drained to comment or was of such like mind that he didn't care.

Dad called while I made breakfast. It was just grapefruit and toast, but it was the first breakfast of a new stage in my life. It tasted wonderful. The PRT contact told us to head to the little travel agency at the strip mall, where we'd catch a van to Protectorate HQ. I appreciated the anonymity. Our appointment was scheduled for eleven, so I took a two-lap run around our neighborhood's little stamp of houses. When I got back, I toweled off, got a drink, fixed my wig and hopped in the car with dad.

If the travel agency got too much traffic, I figured people would get suspicious. Plus, it was out in the boonies by the docks, like us. Probably just one of many stations. My suspicions were confirmed as dad and I were ushered out the travel agency's back door and into a white van. Inside was a very comfortable little setup with bucket seats. According to the PRT officer who sat back with us, the travel agency was real and the employees made a bit more than their regular salary on the stipulation that they didn't report anything PRT-related. Again, I thought this was very sensible. The Brockton Bay Protectorate were rather ineffectual in my opinion, but they had good policies in place at the very least. And they were my way out.

(BREAK)

The term "Protectorate HQ," as it turned out, was a total misnomer. It was mostly paper-pushers and some auditoriums (wouldn't the proper plural be auditoria?) for tour groups to meet heroes. The actual Protectorate headquarters was the Rig, a heavily modified oil rig that spent most of its time floating in the bay. In bad storms, we'd seen it drift over and dock into one of two piers on either side of the bay.

After dad and I had spent too much time filling out paperwork, we were led to the shuttle that would ferry me over to the Rig, where I'd be tested to prove I was parahuman, and then to categorize me. I'd already figured I was a high-level Master, with some points in Thinker and maybe Breaker, with my goo and custom bugs. Or would that roll into Master? Well, my hair had fallen out and I could add bugs to my body, so at least Breaker 1, I guessed. I gave dad a hug, sad that we had to part ways here, but it was – like so many other Protectorate policies – sensible. Too many civilians in the headquarters was dangerous. They might learn something and they couldn't defend themselves against hostile capes. Best to keep my dad ignorant and safe.

I was met by Miss Militia, second in command of the Brockton Bay Protectorate. I'd figured it would be her. Armsmaster might be an excellent tactician, but he didn't have what you call "the social skills." Yes, I did mentally quote that in Mama Boucher's voice. Miss Militia was only two or so inches shorter than me, her long black hair tied back and the only bit of her dark olive skin visible being her eyes and forehead. She wore modified army fatigues, not as baggy and clearly fitted with armor places. An American flag scarf covered the rest of her face. Her energy weapon was currently in the form of two holstered pistols. Her eyes crinkled with a smile and, somehow, I immediately liked her. "You must be Taylor." She extended a hand to me and I shook it. "I'm Miss Militia. If you decide to join the Wards, you may eventually meet me in my civilian identity. For now, though, come on." She walked with confidence but not arrogance. I could see the difference between her and someone like Emma or Sophia as glaringly as the difference between a dog and an iguana. She sat down with me in some surprisingly average chairs, the kind I'd expect in a teacher's office. I guess even superheroes had to deal with government budgets.

"Now then," she folded one leg over the other, hands atop her knee, "what are your powers?"

I blushed a bit, embarrassed. "Well, it's hard to demonstrate here, but...I control bugs."

She didn't react one way or another. "What kind of bugs?"

"Oh, all kinds. Not just insects, either. Spiders, worms, I think I felt some crabs and lobsters once when I was near the beach. If it's creepy-crawly and has a primitive brain, I think it's fair game."

She nodded. "Anything else?"

For some reason, I didn't tell her about my bug-making power. "Well, I don't know if it's related or just from the wounds I suffered from my trigger event, but my hair fell out." I gestured at my head. "I had my spiders weave my hair into a wig."

She stood and motioned for me to walk with her. "Trigger events are terrible things, Taylor. They are, at the time, the worst experience of a person's life. We don't discuss them because some people can still end up mentally back in the situation that caused them to trigger." I was reminded of the locker. "However," she continued as we exited to the Rig's exterior, "we are legally required to ask all Wards about their trigger events. We don't want them going into a situation that could cause them to break down, or for them to have a particular vendetta." She checked to make sure I was following the conversation. "Now, are there any bugs in your range?"

I nodded. "Some dragonflies. Want me to bring them up and show you?" She nodded and I went to work. It was effortless now, as simple as moving my hand or blinking. I had the dragonflies spiral up in a double helix pattern, then open into a circle, then come to rest on our heads. Miss Militia giggled. "I can control them for the most precise purposes, and I'm working on seeing and hearing through them. It's hit-and-miss, okay, more miss than hit right now. Bug brains are too simple to translate well."

"Are they safe?" At first I thought she was afraid of bugs, but her tone spoke of curiosity and of worry not for herself but for others.

I nodded, the dragonflies hanging on as my head moved. "While they're under my command, there's no instinct. They follow my orders explicitly. If I tell them to kamikaze or to feed themselves to spiders, they will. If I tell a black widow not to bite no matter what, it won't bite even if squished." I sent them off then released them from my control, watching them flit around.

"How many can you control at once?"

I shrugged. "As many as are in range. I haven't found a limit yet, and I've been in the hundreds of thousands at least. After a while counting becomes tedious, so I only stop to take stock if it's important to me. Otherwise, just having 'a lot' is enough."

"Well," she said thoughtfully, and I finally realized that she didn't have an accent. Parahumans Online said Miss Militia was Middle-Eastern by birth and had been naturalized, but I suppose I'd always expected in the back of my mind for her to have a bit of an accent. "Considering your fine control and ability to sense through your...swarm?" Yeah, that term sounded perfect. "I'd say you're at least a Master 5 or 6. With practice you might make it to 7. Likewise, with your senses, that's at least a Thinker 1 when you've got enough bugs."

Instead of shoulder angel and devil, I had shoulder spider and ladybug. Ladybug said I should tell Miss Militia about my other power, especially since it'll come out eventually. Better to be upfront and safe. Spider said no, that they'd think I could be another Nilbog. I might end up killed to be safe, or drugged up and used as a minion generator, or any other horrific thing my damaged brain could imagine. I decided to placate them both. I'd wait to learn more about the Wards. If I somehow decided I _wouldn't_ join, I didn't want them armed with that knowledge. "So, what's next?" My question broke the somewhat pregnant pause that had stretched between us.

"Next, you meet the Wards. You should know who you'll be working with before you decide to join." She led me back inside and through the Rig, stopping at a large metal door. The heroine pressed a green button with a stylized domino mask and I could hear something like an alarm clock going off on the other side. "It's a signal to the Wards that a civilian is coming through," Miss Militia answered my unspoken question. "That way they have time to get their masks on."

After about fifteen seconds of buzzing, the door slid open to reveal a petite, quite cute girl in a green and teal outfit. I immediately recognized her as Vista. "Hello," she chirped and extended a hand. "I'm Vista, technically the most senior member of the Wards."

I took her hand with a smile. "Taylor. Nice to meet you. And technically the most senior?"

She nodded. "I may be thirteen, but I triggered at seven. I have more years of experience in the field than anyone else currently in the Wards. Aegis is the oldest, though, so he's leader. Chronological seniority policy," she grumbled, puffing out her cheeks.

Miss Militia smiled at the two of us. "Alright, I'll leave you to meet the rest of the Wards. I hope you like them, Taylor."

Vista led me inside and the door hissed shut behind us. "I hope you decide to join. I could use another girl to talk with."

I raised an eyebrow. "Isn't Shadow Stalker a girl?"

She actually snorted. "Aegis would get on my case if he heard me say this, but Shadow Stalker is a raging bitch. She's the most mean-spirited good guy I've ever met. So yeah, technically female in the same way Cujo was technically a dog."

I frowned, images of the monsters I was trying to leave behind coming to mind. "I hope the others aren't like that."

"Oh no," she bounced back from her grump, "the others are all really nice. Well, Clockblocker's annoying but he usually means well. Aegis is business most of the time but he's a big teddy bear under it all. Kid Win is fun and Gallant is exactly like his name. Sweetest guy on the team."

I noticed her cheeks color a little under her visor but decided not to press.

"Did I hear somebody talking about me?" Clockblocker rounded the corner. I noticed that some of the clocks on his costume really were moving, and the clock on his full helmet had all three hands tick-tocking in real time.

"Yes, Clock, and you also heard the signal, so how are you so late? That many clocks, the least you could do is be on time," Vista snarked.

"Ouch," he chuckled and offered me a handshake. "I'm Clockblocker, but you probably already knew that." He inclined his head slightly while I shook his hand, and I realized he was checking me out. At that point two emotions warred in my mind. The first was offense at how blatantly he was doing it, especially behind his helmet. The second was giddiness due to actually being acknowledged as female and attractive. I eventually decided to shelve the whole thing and continue with introductions, giving him my name in return. "Gallant and Kid are off today, and Shadow Stalker's apparently running late, but we can find Aegis somewhere. By the way, speaking of ouch..." He tapped his visor where his left eye would be.

"Master of subtlety, you are," commented the diminutive senior Ward.

I shrugged. "Got in a fight with the same people who caused my trigger. I came out ahead in terms of damage."

"No offense," came another new voice, "but you don't look like a fighter." Aegis was broad-shouldered and muscular, the mocha skin of his mouth and jaw the only part of his face exposed. His costume was a mix of rust and silver, with a shield emblazoned on his chest.

"I'm not, really, but there's something to be said for getting so pissed you go into a berserker rage."

"I can imagine you'd be angry. Trigger events are nasty business," Aegis commented. "What powers did you get to make up for it?"

I smiled. "I control bugs."

"No offense," Vista piped up, "but that's creepy. And gross."

"I could have ladybugs do a parade for you," I offered.

"And now un-gross."

We all laughed at that.

"No, it's actually pretty cool. I can control them down to the smallest detail, and send them on precise missions. I actually practiced having them style my hair." It was technically true, though the hair wasn't attached to my head at the time.

"So you could be a spy?" Aegis offered.

"Or a saboteur," I grinned. "A swarm of flies carries in a net of spider silk to drop on the bad guys. Stronger than kevlar and sticky on top of that."

"Okay," Clockblocker commented, "that sounds badass."

"I set the ones back home on autopilot. My spiders are programmed to weave silk for my costume, then eat other bugs so they don't weave themselves to death."

"Really badass," the time-stopper amended.

"What is?"

...No. _No_. I did _not_ recognize that voice.

Shadow Stalker walked in and promptly froze.

_NO!_

She was the right height, the right build, her voice sounded the same...

I voice my suspicion. It came out as an accusation. "Sophia Hess."

I couldn't be certain if the soft gasps of surprise were from my knowledge of her identity or from the sheer murder in my voice.

"Hebert, what the fuck are you doing here?"

"I triggered when you tried to murder me, you _monster_." I didn't raise my voice, but even I could feel the bite of my cold tone.

Clockblocker stepped between us, probably ready to freeze whoever lunged.

"What are you talking about?" Aegis' tone wasn't accusatory like the other adults'. He sounded genuinely inquisitive.

"She's a crazy bitch who's been stalking me for a year," Sophia blustered.

"More lies and accusations," I snarled. I could feel my midsection churning, begging to spit up something new. "This psychopath has been conducting a terror campaign against me for two years. A month ago she trapped me inside a maggot-infested biohazard and left me to be eaten alive. I was comatose for a week." I finally put the pieces together. "That's why the school never did anything. It wasn't because you're a track star, or Emma's dad is rich. It's because you're a _Ward_! How is a Monster like you a hero?" I was clearly pronouncing it with a capital letter now, like Endbringer. "You're always going on about predators and prey. If I'd known you had powers, I'd have pegged you for building a CV to join the Slaughterhouse 9. They'd recognize a fellow Monster." How was I remaining relatively calm? I still hadn't raised my voice.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." The distance between Sophia and me more than tripled as Vista spoke up. "Look, whatever's going on, it's only worse because it involves parahumans. Clock, keep between them. I'll keep them apart. Aegis, could you please contact Director Piggot?"

Instinctively, I wanted to tell them to fuck off, that I wasn't going to expose myself to another betrayal by an authority figure. But no, Sophia was not going to get another free ride. She was a hero? Someone as evil as her was allowed to be a hero? Fuck that. If this Piggy or whatever didn't come through, I would. Kaiser's people would get a tip.

If I'd had more time to think, I probably would have wondered about my new vindictive streak. I'd never been this violent, never been this willing to act on a grudge. Were my Master powers somehow affecting my mind? Whatever. I'd figure it out later. For now, I marched alongside Clockblocker.


	5. Spawn 04

**Spawn 1.04**

I never really believed in God. I was mostly an agnostic little girl, until mom died. I know some people found solace in religion after something like that, but for me any such consolation was an insult. I didn't want to believe in a supreme being who allowed evils like the Slaughterhouse 9 to go unchecked while good people like my mother were taken from us.

Well, now I believed. God existed and He was fucking malevolent. Only the orchestrations of some cosmic Caligula could result in such a confluence of events.

Vista kept her power active, stretching the interrogation room to about sixty feet wide, with Sophia on one side and my dad and I on the other. Seated between us were Vista, Clockblocker and Miss Militia, and equidistant from all of us was Director Emily Piggot.

The best way I could describe Piggot, at least physically, was a ball of lard. She was obese, little more than a sausage casing stuffed with fat drippings; paler than I was, with an upturned nose that, were she closer to my build, would have been cute. As it stood, it made her look like a sow. Despite all of that, however, she radiated confidence and authority. When I'd first seen her she'd looked at me with barely hidden disgust and I'd thought the meeting was a foregone conclusion; however, she looked at everyone that way, except for my dad. I suppose when you spend your life cleaning up after parahumans you could come to despise them.

"Why are we still waiting?" My father's voice was quiet but vibrated with the tension of a guitar string about to snap.

"We are waiting, Mr. Hebert, for Armsmaster," Piggot replied. Her voice had that slight wheeze that really fat people got when their pudge pressed on their lungs. "He is commander of the Protectorate for this city and, as such, is required for any disciplinary hearing such as this."

"Disciplinary!? You're taking that bitch's side already?" Each time she yelled, I watched Sophia's arm twitch: elbow moving backward, wrist downward. She was trying to restrain herself from drawing her crossbow and shooting me. I doubted that was from any attempt at self-reformation; she thought she could get away with destroying my life, again, and didn't want to out herself as the Monster she was.

"You're not earning yourself any credit with those outbursts, Stalker."

Before things could devolve further, the door slid open and Armsmaster stepped inside. I had to clutch my knees to keep from grinning like an idiot. Sure, I liked Miss Militia as a person, but Armsmaster was one of my idols, my second-favorite hero behind Alexandria. I still had some underwear with his image on them. It struck me, now that I saw him in person, how _big_ he was. It wasn't just his Tinker armor, either: Armsmaster was at least six feet tall, only a bit shorter than my dad, and built to a degree that Alan Barnes looked scrawny. The guy could give Dwayne Johnson a run for his money in sheer bulk. The only part of his body left exposed was his jaw and neatly trimmed goatee, which had earned him the nickname Halbeard on PHO.

Armsmaster sat down beside Miss Militia, nodding at Director Piggot. "I was pulled away from very important work," he cranked. I figured he must practice his 'hero voice' every day because he somehow managed to not sound whiny. "One of our Wards has been accused of attempted murder. What, exactly, are the allegations?"

This time it was dad gripping my arm. He didn't want me flying into a rage. These people weren't like Principal Blackwell; they were able and potentially willing to hurt me. "The accusations are assault and battery, aggravated assault, attempted murder, grand larceny and destruction of private property." Huh. I guess he'd learned some tricks in his time with Alan.

Piggot let out a sigh like an impatient babysitter. "Mr. Hebert, before, your daughter was just accusing Shadow Stalker of trying to kill her, now you're inventing further allegations?"

He stared her down, unflinching. "They're not invented, _Director Piggot_. Sophia Hess has frequently struck, slapped, and pushed my daughter down flights of stairs. Yesterday she attempted to break Taylor's spine. She also stole an antique flute, an heirloom from my deceased wife, and subsequently destroyed it. This is all on top of causing my daughter to suffer a psychotic break and nearly die, spending one week in a coma. I'm sure the hospital has sent you the medical records."

"You're not lying." Armsmaster's declaration was as flat as it was sudden. "Or at least you believe this yourself."

"At best you have circumstantial evidence, Mr. Hebert, and not much of that. Winslow has never brought any such incidents to our attention and a cursory inquiry has produced no witnesses on the side of Miss Hebert."

My stomach boiled. Well, not really my stomach anymore. Whatever happened in my guts, I now had some sort of additional bladder that held the purple goop. It churned, wanting release. Another fucking authority figure who was all too willing to throw me under a bus. I hated her already. Some part of me said I could take them by surprise, birth the right insects to kill them all before they understood what was happening. The darkest recesses of my heart took pleasure in that knowledge.

A small sound, more apropos to Cindy Lou Who than a superhero, broke the staredown. "Excuse me," Vista spoke up, "may I say something?" She took a breath and composed herself. "Shadow Stalker is a bully. She belittles my and my teammates, obviously disdains the Wards, and frequently skirts violation of her parole by splitting up and going solo during patrols. After all, she's only here because she crucified a man to a brick wall and left him to die." She cleared her throat. "What I'm saying is, with my knowledge of Shadow Stalker's character, I'm inclined to believe Taylor's side of the story."

Clockblocker spoke next. "Look, I know you didn't want us to take sides, and I figure you'll find some way to punish us for this later, but Vista's right. Shadow Stalker is a ball of hate and violence. It wouldn't surprise me one bit if she was abusing someone like that just because she could." Piggot looked like she was trying to burn a hole through his skull with sheer force of ire.

Miss Militia turned to Armsmaster, tapping him on the shoulder. She leaned in and whispered something to him, to which he nodded solemnly.

"Director," the Protectorate commander began, "in light of these accusations, I cannot in good conscience advocate on Shadow Stalker's behalf. She has bent the rules of her probation and, if some reports are to be believed, violated them with use of lethal ammunition. I had chosen to overlook these indiscretions since she got results, but if her own team are willing to believe a stranger over her, I can't stand behind her."

Sophia looked stunned. Was this really the first time she'd been called out on her actions? Actually, it probably was. Her athletic, curvy body was ridiculously hot, then she'd become Emma's friend, then a Ward. Sex, money and status, she had every defense. And now little skinny, unattractive, shy Taylor Hebert had broken her. Her hand flew to her crossbow and suddenly we were mere feet apart. Clockblocker reached over and casually tapped her, freezing her in place. The room swam again as Vista returned the dimensions to normal.

"And that clinches it," Miss Militia said with a tone that would brook no protest, even from her commander. "Director, I'd like to recommend that Miss Hess be transferred to a juvenile detention facility for violation of her parole."

Piggot just nodded, then turned back to dad and me. "Taylor, Mister Hebert, I'm sorry that you had to go through that. I hope you'll understand that I was just doing my job and protecting my people. That said, you helped expose a corrupt element. For that I would like to thank you and offer Taylor a position with the Wards."

I practically saw stars. I'd beaten Sophia, crushed her completely. And now I would get the chance to be a hero, to work alongside Armsmaster!

"No."

Every head in the room snapped toward me, so I continued. "It took an outside element to bring anything to your attention. You were all too happy to let an attempted murderer and a clear psychopath violate the rules of her probation so long as it got results, not even caring that you were knowingly breaking the law by doing so." I stood up and took dad's hand. "I can't in good conscience work for such an organization. How could I be expected to uphold the law when my superiors won't do so?"

Piggot's eyes narrowed. I realized I'd just cost her a Ward, taken a cape off the streets, and made an enemy of the PRT's director. I couldn't bring myself to regret my decision.

"Maybe, eventually, I'll come to realize that the PRT is the best way to go and I'll ask to join up. But for now? I don't think I could trust you not to stab me in the back. Miss Militia, would it be too much of an imposition to ask you to lead us out?"

I could tell she was smiling sadly behind her scarf. "Of course, Taylor."

(BREAK)

I was tense the entire way home. Dad didn't even speak for fear of accidentally pissing off my bugs. When we finally got through the front door, I whipped off my wig, threw myself on the couch and just bawled.

Dad sat beside me and pet my bare scalp. "Taylor, I want you to know how proud I am of you." He spoke loud enough that I could hear him over my whimpering. "You stuck to your morals even though you wanted so badly to be a Ward and work with Armsmaster. You did good, Janis."

Even through my tears, I snorted. "You're _still_ calling me that?"

He gave me that lopsided smirk of his. "You still haven't sung 'Take a Piece of My Heart'."

"Maybe I'll stuff some moths up your nose tonight."

Dad gathered me up into his arms and we snuggled. I felt like a little girl again, when my daddy could scare away all the bad things in the world. "So, honey, what do we do next?"

I looked up at him. "I don't think you're going to like it."

(BREAK)

New Wave was a family business, no two ways about it. There was pretty much zero chance they'd accept an unknown into their ranks. I'd need to make a name for myself, win a few fights, then contact them. To win fights, I needed two things. The first was a target, a baddie I'd have a decent chance of beating. I wasn't going to risk going up against someone like Kaiser, Hookwolf or Lung, so that left the Merchants. Skidmark would be the biggest threat: his wind would bat my bugs aside, so I'd need to get the drop on him.

The second thing I needed, and the more important one, was a name. If you didn't have a name, you'd need to hope you made a good impression or the media would start calling you something like Bug-Eyes.

Names were a bitch, especially bug-themed hero names. Too many bug terms skewed to the gross or villainous. Swarm sounded too threatening. Crawler was creepy, and was taken. Plague or Pestilence? Taken, and also, ew, no. Dad suggested Weaver but that reminded me of that annoying mousy redhead on one of the Law & Orders.

Eventually I settled on something cute but creepy, which I guess described me now: Skitter.

(BREAK)

The Merchants were a hard group to find, mostly because they were widely known as the worst gang in Brockton Bay. If they weren't so disgusting and didn't peddle drugs to attract some of the most wretched scum of the city, they'd probably be the collective butt of jokes, sort of like Über and Leet. Problem was, since they were such a shit gang, the Merchants had virtually no territory and what land they did hold was subject to change at any moment. A crack house one week would be a hobo hotel next week after the Merchants got their asses handed to them by whoever.

I was doing my best not to hum the _Mission: Impossible_ theme as I scuttled across the rooftops. I'd gathered a sizeable swarm and augmented them with my spy bugs so I could see what was going on. I was in full costume, and it was a thing of beauty.

The full-body suit was made entirely of spider silk, which was delightfully soft and comfortable. It fit me like a second skin so I could move freely. I'd spraypainted it black with waterproof paint so I didn't have to worry about it going semi-transparent in the middle of a fight. My success with the wasp spider glue trick had inspired my armor plating: until I could afford better armor, the plates were made from beetle shells reinforced and held together with the spiderweb concrete. Plating covered my chest and upper abdomen, my knees and shins, elbows and forearms, and also shielded my head and spine. I'd fashioned carapace claws for my fingertips so I could grip more confidently, in case of either a fall or a fight. My eyes were protected by reinforced divers' goggles, the lenses a luminous orange. I'd settled on orange not only for intimidation factor but also because it seemed like the best color for keeping my vision sharp in daylight or at night. The inner lenses were my prescription, so I could see just fine.

I'd originally wanted to go with a full face mask, but my ability to spit up bugs would make such a mask a hindrance. Instead I fashioned carapace into stylized mandibles around my mouth, covering most of my face but leaving enough exposed that I could vomit up more help if necessary.

Wrapping things up, the armor on my spine held several compartments for my equipment: zip-cuffs, pepper spray, and five epi pens just in case of anaphylactic shock.

So now, as Skitter, I leapt from rooftop to rooftop like a bona fide superhero. Or a parkour nut. My improved physique practically sang at the exertion and _I_ practically sang at the feeling of absolute freedom.

Some of my earbugs (seriously, I needed to get better with names) buzzed through the warehouses, listening for suspicious noises. Thus far I'd just heard bums and strung-out druggies. Wait...shit, that sounded like someone checking their gun. And not just a pistol, either. That sounded like a rifle from out of the movies. I turned and headed toward the sound, staying on the roofs. Something odd about humans, even in a world filled with flying kooks in Spandex, is that we so rarely look up.

I got to a vantage point and quietly spat out a sight bug, sending it down to observe. The guard paced into view, and my bug caught sight of a darkish hand. _Please be hispanic_, I thought to myself. Nope. His jacket was emblazoned with the letters ABB. _Fuuuuck_.

My bug caught sight of more movement inside and I sent it in, having an ear bug tag along. I really needed to mix those two together, but I still couldn't hock up that invention. Did I need to level up or something?

It took me a moment to process the images, mostly because I thought I was seeing in my bug's compound-eye vision again. Nope. There were at least thirty of the Azn Bad Boys in the warehouse, each with an automatic weapon. _FUUUUUCK_. And worse yet was at the end of the warehouse. Standing on a raised platform, shirtless and rippling with muscle, was none other than Lung. Okay, that was it. No way was I going to take on the guy who'd fought the entire Brockton Bay Protectorate and gotten away, the monster who'd fought Leviathan single-handed. And then my ear bug got in close.

"...that they're kids. Once they're down, you give the bitches two more in head to be sure. These cocksuckers too uppity for their own good. They need to be reminded who owns this town!" His English was shoddy and heavily accented, but I got the message. The ABB were going to kill kids.

Dad still had a phobia of cell phones, since mom had been talking on one when she died. Out of respect for them both, I'd stopped carrying one as well. Never had I regretted that decision more than right now. I couldn't run and call the PRT; god only knew where the nearest payphone was, and it looked like the ABB were getting ready to move. I couldn't let them go off and murder children; I could never live with myself if I did. I had to at least try to stop them.

I sent in my widows, one on each ABB mook. I had them all bite simultaneously, only injecting a small amount of their potent venom. Most of them would be incapacitated in moments, but hopefully none would die. When his men started crying out and staggering, then falling, Lung immediately started looking for the culprit.

According to PHO, Lung always had low-level pyrokinesis, enough to light a cigarette or glow like a candle. The longer he fought, however, the stronger his fire grew and the stronger he grew. The man became a veritable dragon, covered in armored scales. I'd need to take him down before he could get too tough. With that in mind, I brought in all of my worst bugs. He was a regenerator, so I'd have to get him really hard. Bees flew in carrying spiders like bombardiers, dropping black widows onto the massive Chinese man while more widows and brown recluses crawled up his legs. To distract him from the real attack, I sent the bees to sting him in the face.

Lung snarled in annoyance, the sound quickly rising into something between a roar and a scream as my spiders bit into him. He spasmed, falling to his hands and knees, and started to grow bigger. His muscles surged in size, bubbling up beneath his skin, and scales began to grow over his flesh. Shit, I didn't have much time. I had them keep biting, crawling to areas with more blood flow: his thighs, elbows, armpits, neck, even his groin.

The dragon-man exploded. The windows shattered outward from the sheer force of superheated air as flames erupted from his body, flash-frying my spiders. I sent in another bombing run, but it already looked useless. At the very least, the fire and explosion might have gotten someone's attention. Now I just needed to get out of here. I'd incapacitated his soldiers and delayed Lung himself. Job well done.

Of course not. Somehow – maybe he saw me, maybe he smelled me, maybe he had psychic dragon senses – Lung had figured out where I was. He burst through the wall and leapt up onto the roof in a single smooth motion. If I hadn't already been moving to leave, he would have landed right on me. This close to him, I could feel the heat rolling off his body. Every inch of him glistened with silvery scales and his mouth was split like a hideous crossbreed of cat and lamprey. I swore under my breath and drew my pepper spray, hoping that somehow the chemicals would do their work even if they caught fire. The creature didn't even flinch as the burning spray hit him.

I stumbled back from him, feeling real fear for the first time since the locker. He was going to kill me. My first act as a superhero would be to die at the hands of Brockton Bay's most powerful villain. I gripped my stomach and gurgled, dry-heaving a little. Lung took a moment to laugh at me, the pitiful, scrawny girl about to puke from fear. Except it wasn't fear, and it wasn't my stomach that was heaving. I braced my hands on my thighs and raised my head to look at him before opening my mouth wide and vomiting forth a torrent of purple slime. Like last time, there was even more of it. It was like there was a firehose inside me, pumping out gallons at a time.

More than that, however, Lung was being driven back. And not by the sheer force of my spew, though that was not inconsiderable. His body spasmed as though he was being struck, and then I saw it. At the edges of the spray, I could sometimes see neon green explosions. Somehow my body had instinctively brewed up something to protect me. I couldn't keep going, coughing out the last of my slime, and hocking up several more meatball-sized green critters. They looked like tumorous pillbugs, their rear halves swolled obscenely and glowing a putrescent green. I shifted my gaze back to Lung and saw raw, seared flesh. His scales had been eaten clean through, seemingly by acid. He was already healing but his surprise was evident. I pressed the advantage. Shifting the bugs to my left hand and then dropping one into my right, I pitched it as best I could. While I didn't hit his face, it burst like a water balloon on his chest and Lung howled in pain. I licked my lips and prepared to throw another.

Lung bolted.

He stomped through the purple glop that was already dissolving, leapt off the rooftop, and was promptly T-boned by an enormous, monstrous _something_. It had four legs, I thought, and a head. The rest was all malformed muscle and bone. Two more joined it, piling on Lung and wrenching him back and forth. The biggest one got him around the waist and shook him like a rope toy before a sharp whistle cut through the night. It spat him onto the ground and reared on its hind legs to stomp on his head. Lung didn't get back up.

"Nice work."

I'd been so preoccupied staring at the beasts, hoping they wouldn't decide to eat me, that I'd released control of my bugs. The voice caught me by surprise and I spun to see a strange quartet on an opposite rooftop.

Standing in front was a tall, broad-shouldered man in motorcycle leathers, all black, with a white skull mask beneath his helmet. To his left was an attractive blonde in a simple bodysuit of mostly purple, a black domino mask fitted over her eyes and an Egyptian eye emblazoned over her breasts. To his right was something like a Renaissance faire reject. Curly black hair spilled down to the figure's shoulders, where it wore a miniature Elizabethan collar like out of a Shakespeare portrait. A creepy porcelain mask and puffy shirt straight out of _Seinfeld_ completed the look. A short distance away was a fourth member, a bulky woman in clothing that screamed 'homeless' and a dollar-store plastic dog mask.

The voice came again, and this time I could match it to the man in front. "When we got word that Lung was after us, I'm not ashamed to admit we panicked. Oni Lee hit us, but he's a coward at heart. We got the upper hand and he ran. We wondered what was keeping Lung, decided to go on the offense, and find that you'd already kicked his ass." He inclined his head. "I'm Grue, by the way. She's Tattletale," he jerked his thumb at the blonde, "and over there is Bitch, or Hellhound if you're being PC."

"Fuck PC," Bitch grunted.

"And last but certainly least..."

"Fuck you, Grue," Puffy Shirt chuckled. Okay, that was a male voice.

"...Is Regent." Okay, now I could see the little crown above the creepy doll mask. And that thing at his hip was a scepter, not a billy club. "How'd you bring him down, anyway?" Grue asked. "I've never seen Lung run from a fight.

"A highly potent alkaloid secreted from some sort of insect," Tattletale answered before I could. "And..." she looked at the last of the slime as it dissolved, "...yeah, I got nothing."

Regent's head snapped toward Tattletale at that, and Grue glanced her way before looking back to me. "Look, for whatever reason, you did us a solid. We owe you one. For now, I suggest you get out of here. Armsmaster's on his way and he's not about to let another villain go just because you did his job for him," he gestured at Lung's unconscious form, then looked back to me. "By the way, what's your name?"

I just stared blankly at them. These were the kids Lung was going to kill? Villains? And they thought I was a villain too?

"Is she mute?" Regent asked while those monster thingies climbed the walls on Bitch's command.

"No," Tattletale replied, "she's just really shy." She smiled toward me. "Can we give you a ride?" Not trusting my voice, I just shook my head in reply. Tattletale frowned but nodded. "Okay. Stay safe." She and Grue mounted one beast, Bitch and Regent the other, and they left. I just sat on the roof's edge in a daze.

Soon enough I heard the roar of Armsmaster's Tinker-tech motorcycle. I didn't want to deal with the Protectorate, but I needed to claim this win. He approached, saw Lung's mutilated form, then looked up and saw me. He drew his halberd. "You gonna fight me?"

"I wasn't planning on it," I replied in a raspy voice. My mouth had gone dry from the events leading up to now.

"Didn't expect a villain would take down Lung and then just turn herself in," he commented as he injected the criminal with something.

"I'm not a villain," I said with no small amount of indignation. "I'm not a melee fighter, so I need to go with stealth and intimidation."

"You'll certainly have the latter," he commented. "You took him down by yourself? First off, that's impressive. Second, that's incredibly stupid."

"No shit," I snarked back. "But the bastard was going to murder kids. I couldn't just do nothing."

"Ever hear of a cell phone?"

"Can't afford one. I'll start saving up now."

"That's a lie," he replied. Right, he must have a lie detector built into his suit.

"Okay, fine, I don't have one for personal reasons that're none of your damn business, but I'll be getting one for the future. Happy?" He looked like he was about to scold me for being so grumpy. "Look, I threw myself into a suicide mission to save children I'd never met, on my first night as a cape. Excuse me if I'm a little frazzled." Hell, even my apology managed to sound like an insult.

He ran a hand along Lung's shoulder. "You control bugs, right?" I guess he recognized me. "These weren't made by any kind of insect. You had help?"

I shrugged. "Sort of. Lung tried to run away and another group of villains blindsided him. I was content with making him run but they did me a favor by putting him down for the count."

"And you didn't apprehend them?" I could practically see the incredulity in his words.

"Honestly? They did me a favor by helping bring Lung down. Turns out I did them a favor in return, since Lung was gunning for them and they couldn't have taken him by themselves. I figured it was only fair to just go our separate ways. I wouldn't arrest a mugger after he rescued people from a burning building, after all."

He didn't reply, but I suspected he disagreed. "So this is your first night as a cape? And I can't convince you to join the Wards?" I shook my head. "Then maybe you should let me take the credit for this one. Hear me out," he continued as I must've looked ready to pounce. "If you take credit, that makes you one of the heaviest hitters in Brockton Bay, and an unknown. Other capes will be gunning for you. If I take credit, the target falls on my chest and you're free to build a reputation more safely."

"I appreciate your concern, Armsmaster," I said in what wasn't quite a lie. If his concern was genuine, I did appreciate it. But paranoia and distrust in authority led me to suspect his motives weren't so altruistic. "But I want this. I put myself in danger to save others and I want the gangs of the Bay to know it. Like you said, I'm an unknown, so they have something new to fear. The Protectorate has to follow rules, protocol. But does this Skitter have to? Is he a hero? A vigilante? A villain painting himself in a good light? Is Skitter a man or a woman? What does the name mean?" I smirked. "If you can, just release his injuries and my name to the press. It should keep the baddies on their toes, and maybe make your job a little easier." I was forgetting something, but what? "Oh!" He jumped a little at that. "I forgot. Get him some antivenom soon. I covered him in christ-knows how many spider bites, mostly black widows and brown recluses."

And with that, I scampered up the rooftop and disappeared into the night.


	6. Spawn 05

**Spawn 1.05**

By the time I made it home, I was exhausted. I seriously needed to work on my stamina. I unlocked the door, staggered past dad – I felt guilty that he'd stayed up waiting for me – while telling him I'd give him the full story in the morning, and barely made it into my room. I didn't even take off my costume; I just flopped onto the bed and was out like a light.

(BREAK)

I awoke the next morning to the doorbell. Blearily I looked around, noticing that I was out of costume. Dad must've tucked me in after I passed out. I sent some bugs around to find my wig while I read the note on my little nightstand.

_Taylor, had Union stuff. So glad you're okay. Tell me everything when I get home_.

I couldn't begrudge him that, I supposed, even though I didn't want to terrify him with the full truth. A small squadron of flies air-lifted my wig over while I threw some baggy pajamas over my sports bra and athletic shorts. I felt surprisingly energized for not getting much sleep after such a harrying event. The doorbell rang again and I grumbled, adjusting my wig as I grumped my way down the hall. I really wanted to get some more sleep.

I opened the door, realizing as I turned the knob that this was a stupid thing to do. I should've had an eye bug check out who was on the other side. I only continued to mentally kick myself as the door opened to reveal Emma Fucking Barnes, with a huge smile on her face.

"Taylor!" Before I could react she'd closed the distance between us and enveloped me in a bearhug, like the last two years had never happened.

"What the fuck!?" I squirmed to get free but Emma wasn't budging. I'd need to get rough with the psycho bitch, and–

"I'm so proud of you!"

...What.

"I knew you were strong! Sophia told me you were nothing but prey but I never believed her. You're so strong, Taylor, and now you're free, like me!" Had I been pulled into another universe overnight? My brain whirled with possible explanations, before completely shutting down when Emma kissed me.

Emma Barnes, one of the most evil people I'd ever known, was kissing me. Apparently taking my stunned immobility as consent, she shoved her tongue into my mouth. That woke my reflexes and I finally broke away, shoving her back into the wall and lunging backward myself for as much distance as I could get.

If Emma was hurt by my rejection, she didn't show it. "I knew you'd broken free when you came back to school, but you were just acting like your old self. Then you finally fought back," she exclaimed giddily. "Not even Sophia is as strong as you!" Emma practically bounced on the balls of her feet.

In that moment, everything clicked. Every last ounce of disgust and hatred I felt was wicked away and replaced with pity. "Oh Emma," I said softly, "you never stopped being my friend, did you?"

She pounced on me again and I pulled my head away, not wanting a repeat of earlier. Still, I didn't push her off. "Never! I couldn't have lived with myself if I didn't help free you. You're my best friend, Taylor, and you always will be. I love you."

I just gave her a sad smile. "C'mon, join me on the couch. I just need to make a call first." I ushered her into the living room, ignoring her squeal of happiness, and then went to dial Alan Barnes.

"Mr. Barnes," I spoke into the receiver, "it's Taylor Hebert. Your daughter is at my house. Alan, there's no easy way to say this," I was keeping my voice down so Emma hopefully wouldn't hear. "I think your daughter is mentally ill." I winced as he started yelling. "No, you asshole," I snarled, "just get in your fucking Mercedes and drive your ass down here." I hung up, barely resisting slamming the phone down.

I strode back to the living room and found Emma lounging on the couch. The moment she saw me she put on her best bedroom eyes. I had to resist a shudder of revulsion. Had she always lusted after me? Even while she was torturing me? The insectoid part of my brain told me that she was, as I'd always known, ridiculously attractive. Of course, there was no separating her looks from the sheer loathing I'd felt for her over the last two years. Still, I swallowed down my bile and sat beside her.

Emma grinned at me. "I always know when you're coming into a room, sweetie. You shine brighter than anybody I've ever seen, even brighter than Sophia!" She draped herself over me and I had to grit my teeth to keep from whimpering.

I had to keep her attention on anything but me. "What do you mean about shining?"

She giggled, almost drunkenly. "Oh, you know what I mean! You broke free, and now you're _so_ bright!" She looped her arms around my neck and started kissing my throat.

"Ah, ah," I said in a gentle reprimand. "Not yet, sweetie." I rested a hand on her sternum and gingerly pushed her away. "You were telling me about this shine. How did you know I could, ah, break free?"

She smirked. "I could see it inside you, like a pilot light. And now you're glowing like a lighthouse!"

"And what about Madison? Did you help her to break free?"

"Of course not," Emma said knowingly. "She has no light. She wouldn't get free; she'd just break."

My mind whirled. I understood now. Emma had triggered. She saw parahuman potential! Whatever other mental trauma she'd suffered, Sophia's savagery and the nightmare of Emma's own trigger event had twisted the poor girl. I just couldn't bring myself to continue hating her. She was just a stupid little girl. I hugged her to me and pet her hair. "Oh, Emma..."

(BREAK)

The discussion with Alan Barnes had been long and angry, but in the end he'd conceded. Emma was damaged, possibly even broken. We'd eventually convinced Emma to go to therapy when I told her I'd consider being friends again if she got help.

In all honesty, I wasn't certain if I could ever be her friend again, no matter what help she got. I could never forgive her, that was for certain. No matter what was wrong with her mind, the evils she had perpetrated on me would never go away. Perhaps one day I could stop hating her, but she would never again be my best friend.

Dad had gotten home just as I bade goodbye to the Barneses and I now had two long stories to tell him. By the end of the discussion, he needed some booze and I needed to relax. I went into dad's office and logged into Parahumans Online.

(BREAK)

**Topic: Lung Taken Down!**

**In: Boards News Events America**

**Nuclearpickles** (Original Poster) (Veteran Member)

Posted on February 2nd, 2011:

Halle-friggin-lujah! One of the biggest villains in Brockton Bay is on his way to the Birdcage right now. Looks like Lung bit off more than he could chew in some villainous civil war, and then ran straight into Armsmaster after his fight. Our own Protectorate commander finished him off and brought him down! Congrats to Armsmaster and the PRT!

I just stared, slack-jawed. That utter bastard! He took the credit anyway! Before I could get too angry, however, I backed out of that topic and noticed a new one.

**Topic: Bug**

**In: Boards Connections General America**

**Guest**

Still owe you one. Would like to repay. Same place, same time?

Tt.

Pages of questions and theories followed, but I understood. Tattletale had found a way to contact me.

(BREAK)

Why was I here? I could have just not come. Why did I decide to meet a group of villains? I wanted to be a hero, damn it! But the PRT was ineffective and most likely corrupt, and fucking Armsmaster had stolen my win so I still had nothing to show New Wave. Hell, maybe I could do more good working with villains, hunting other bad guys.

I still hadn't managed to get a cell phone, but I remembered how to make those bomb-bugs. I would probably be safe if I could take down Lung with them, and it was unlikely they'd try anything since they saw what I could do. I looked around for any sign of them.

I spotted Tattletale's long blonde hair first and she smiled when she saw me. It was weird, how open she was. In fact, none of them struck me as typical villains. I'd come to think of villains as murderous psychopaths like Lung, Hookwolf or Sophia; token "Mwahaha!" types like Über and Leet; or subtle tyrants like Kaiser. It was a bit of a reality check to be reminded that villains were human beings too.

There were only three of them this time. I didn't see Bitch's stocky frame or her monsters anywhere. "Hi," Tattletale chirped and I was reminded of an older, blonde Vista. From her body shape I figured she was a year or two older than me. She was attractive but relatively slender, none of the ridiculous jailbait development like Emma. She turned and gave Regent a smug smile, their shortest member grumbling as he passed her twenty bucks. "C'mon," she smiled back at me, "we have a place where we can talk in private. I just didn't know how else to get in touch with you without giving ourselves away."

I fell in step, keeping my goo bubbling at the back of my throat just in case.

"So what's your name, anyway?" Regent idly flipped his scepter, repeatedly almost dropping it.

"I've settled on 'Skitter'," I replied. "All the other names were taken, or sucked."

Tattletale chuckled. "Yeah, I get that. My first, what, seventy names were already claimed."

"Like you didn't already have another seventy picked out," Grue snorted. "She came up with my name, y'know," he said to me. "I didn't even know what a _Zork_ was."

"You are likely to be eaten by a grue," I quoted.

"Fuck you," he laughed.

(BREAK)

It was weird, not being afraid. We were walking the back alleys of Gangland, USA, yet I wasn't nervous about bumping into E88, the ABB, or Coil's tech soldiers. I had to admit to myself that I felt like a predator. Not like that Monster Sophia, though. I felt like a king cobra, an apex predator that didn't need to fuck with people. It was perfectly content to live and let live, because it knew how dangerous it was. That just about anything that messed with it would be lucky if it lived to regret.

We finally came to a nicer warehouse a few miles from the boardwalk district. The bottom floor was gutted but the upstairs loft was well furnished. Plasma screen TV, Playstation, several plush couches. The kitchen was well-stocked from what I could see, and there were several other rooms, each with a decorated door. One had the same Egyptian eye as Tattletale's costume, one had a poorly painted crown, and the other had crude drawings of dogs. There was a fourth, but the door was blank.

"Welcome to Undersiders HQ," Tattletale smiled, then peeled off her mask. "Hi, I'm Lisa." I could see why she wore the mask. Not only were the freckles dotting her nose and cheeks recognizable, they were painfully cute. Nobody would take a villain seriously if they wanted to pick her up and hug her.

Grue removed his helmet and mask, revealing a handsome yet slightly gawky black man. He was clearly older than me yet looked still in his teens. With a mouth slightly too wide for his face and a narrow nose, he looked like he still had to grow into his features. His hair was done into tight cornrows, presumably to keep it from getting in the way. "I'm Brian."

Regent flopped down onto the couch and pulled off his creepy doll mask, thank god. He was pale like me, with very pretty features. I might have gone so far as to call his face effeminate, but he looked maybe a year or so younger than me so I chalked it up to being mid-puberty. "Call me Alec," he said before promptly ignoring me and switching on Soul Calibur.

Brian just rolled his eyes. "Rachel, Bitch, isn't here because she's not exactly a fan of adding to our ranks. But you took down Lung and we need more firepower in our group. Lisa says you wouldn't fuck us over and that's good enough for me."

Silence stretched after that and I realized they were waiting for me to reveal my own identity. I balked as I realized that I didn't have my wig. Despite the confidence I had before, I now felt very weak. I sighed and steeled myself, pulling apart the mandibles and sliding the mask off my head to pool behind my neck like a hood. I was fully exposed: my dark eyes, my pale skin, and my completely bald head.

**Ring Out!**

Alec was gawking at my lack of hair and his character had been pitched into the water.

"Hi," I said shyly, "I'm Taylor."

"So," the brunet boy spoke up as he let the Continue meter tick down, "is that a fashion statement, or are you a cultist or something?"

Brian slapped him upside the head in a motion so practiced that I expected it happened several times a day. I was briefly reminded of Beavis and Butt-Head.

I shrugged. "It just all fell out after I triggered. I made it into a wig but I didn't bring it with me. I should start doing that in case I need to change in an emergency."

Brian nodded. "So what are your powers, anyway?"

I hesitated. Should I tell them the whole story? I mean, they were villains, so they'd be less likely to attack me on principle if I demonstrated Nilbog-esque powers, but they were _villains_. They might backstab me just because I seemed too big a threat. Then again, they'd put themselves on the line. Bringing me here to their base, revealing their identities...

"Well, I control bugs. But there's more to it than that." I stepped over to a window and opened it up. Making sure I had their attention, I coughed into my hand. Another green grenade bug squirmed free of the violet amniotic fluid. I threw it as hard as I could and watched as it exploded on the side of a nearby building, dissolving the concrete.

Alec zipped over to stand beside me. "That was fuckin' awesome! You make bomb bugs?"

I nodded. "Not just that. I can make any sort of bug. I've got some even more impressive ideas, but I can't make them yet. I can't hock them up. It's like if you try to swallow something too big, but in reverse. They won't even form."

"So, what exactly is that purple stuff?" Again, Grue and Regent looked at Tattletale in disbelief. She noted my curiosity. "I'm a Thinker. My power helps fill in gaps in my knowledge. If I can get a proper cold read or see some clues, I can piece together the whole story. But that stuff you cough up? It's like I'm getting static. Same with that bug. I could tell it was filled with a volatile base, but as for what kind of critter it was or where it came from? Nada."

"Then you know as much as I do," I replied. "It started out coming from my stomach, but then my insides rearranged themselves and I have some sort of additional bladder that holds all the goo. I think it also makes the bugs"

Lisa nodded, her eyes slightly wide. "That's really, really impressive. That's got to be a high-level Master, at least a 7 or 8." She got a faraway look for a moment. "You can sense through them too, can't you? Shit, you're lucky!"

I scoffed. "Sure, lucky. I got my powers thanks to nearly dying from blood poisoning. I suffered a psychotic break and was comatose for a week."

"Shit," Brian voiced what everyone seemed to be thinking. He got back on track. "Look, we'd like to invite you to join the Undersiders, Taylor. You don't seem like a typical villain, which is good. We're not looking to be murderous psychos like the ABB or genocidal rulers like Empire Eighty-Eight–"

"Speak for yourself," Alec interjected.

"...Point is, we're all here because we want something out of this. Stability, freedom, safety, what have you. We make a good profit along the way and we fly under the radar. Your power could be the edge we need to keep from getting wiped out by the likes of Lung or Kaiser." He locked eyes with me. His chocolate-brown orbs were very pretty, I noted. "Are you in?"

I closed my eyes and took a few moments to just think. Did I want this? As long as the PRT needed to keep its PR up, they wouldn't let an outsider claim wins. New Wave had power and legal backing to get past that, but one teenage girl? I'd never get enough clout to join a hero team, and I couldn't trust the Protectorate. I locked eyes with him again. "I want two things: to keep my family safe, and to clean up this city. E88, the Merchants, the ABB, they're destroying it. My dad can barely make ends meet, while the rich sit on their shiny hilltops and shit down on the rest of us. The city needs to be revitalized, and that can't happen while we have maniacs on the streets." Why was I saying this? They'd think I was a hero – okay, I _wanted_ to be a hero – and they'd probably attack! "So yeah, I'll work with you. But that's my goal: to get rid of the major threats, and help Brockton Bay get on its feet again."

It was Tattletale who replied, stepping into my field of vision. "That works for us. From what I've figured out so far, our backer wants pretty much the same thing."

I blinked. "We have a backer?"

Before she or Brian could reply, the door opened. "What the fuck!? I thought I told you no! Brutus! Judas!" Bitch gave a sharp, angry whistle and the dogs were on me. They tackled me from behind, each taking one of my arms in their jaws and wrenching.

I cried out in pain, feeling them try to rip my shoulders out of their sockets. I squeezed my eyes shut and _called_. I felt the arachnids hurrying up the walls and stairs, heard Regent squeak in fear. Black widows piled on Bitch. "Call them off or I fucking kill you," I shouted with as much authority as I could muster through overwhelming pain.

"Bitch." Grue's tone was hard. He believed I'd do it. I pulled my arms inward as best I could, thankful that my spider silk was holding. Bitch eventually relented just as I was getting ready to have the spiders bite her. With another sharp whistle, she called the dogs off of me.

_Villains don't show weakness_. I wanted nothing more than to collapse on the ground and moan in pain. Instead I grit my teeth and used my legs to haul myself upright. "What the fuck!?" The words left my mouth, accompanied by spittle and flecks of purple, as I whirled on her. I was moving fast, almost watching myself like an out-of-body experience. Wait, I _was_ watching myself. Most of my sight was, for whatever reason, coming from the spiders. I swept my leg through her knees, knocking Bitch onto her back, then stomped on her ribcage. And again. I stopped, leg raised, ready for one more, before I stepped back. "Fuck with me again," I growled in as low a tone as I could manage, "and I'll have my spiders rot off your arms."

Several tense seconds passed.

Alec flopped back onto the couch and picked up his controller again. "Well that was exciting. Bitch, Skitter. Skitter, Bitch. Introductions are done, now shut the fuck up."

I offered my hand to the bulky girl, and she grudgingly took it. She was a lot heavier than me and my arms still screamed in pain, but I managed to haul her to her feet. "Teammates shouldn't distrust each other," I told her. "I won't hold a grudge if you won't."

She just eyed me before stomping off to her room, dogs trotting behind her.

"Don't mind Rachel," Lisa said. "She had a seriously fucked childhood and she never really got over it. She's reliable in a fight, and she's loyal. Once she gets to know you, she won't _like_ you, but she'll have your back."

"So," I said, in an attempt to break the tension, "what's everybody else's powers?"

Brian smirked and led me to an overstuffed chair, where I let myself collapse and just rest. "I put it out there that my power is darkness generation, but it's more than that." He held out a hand, palm up, and a grainy black cloud appeared. "It blocks light, dampens or even mutes sound, and can mess with some powers. It also apparently can block radio waves and radiation, according to Lisa."

"Mine's not that flashy," Alec commented. He flicked his hand and Brian's arm flailed for a moment. "I cause little seizures in people's extremities. It's damn useful in the right places."

Lisa continued for him as Alec zoned out once more. "Making people trip, drop their weapons, pull a trigger early. We gave him that souped-up taser so he wouldn't be dead weight the moment somebody reached him." Alec waved his middle finger at her.

"Bitch affects dogs," Lisa continued. "Those monsters you saw take down lung? Those were Brutus, Judas and Angelica. She makes them bigger, tougher and scarier. They also heal any injuries when they transform, and when they change back."

"Wow, that's helpful."

"Yeah. She makes it a habit of finding homeless dogs and briefly changing them to cure things like heartworm and lyme disease."

"That's...actually sweet," I said, disbelief evident in my voice.

"Rachel understands dogs better than people," Brian replied. "She can trust them, gets what makes them tick. After how many times she's been fucked over, I don't know if she'll ever trust humans again."

I nodded, then noticed the clock. "Oh shit, I need to get home!"

"At this hour?" Lisa shook her head. "Not a good idea. Look, how about you just call your dad and let him know you're staying with friends?"

Brian booted Alec off the couch. "You can crash here for tonight, then tomorrow we'll get you some furniture for your room," he jerked his thumb at the unadorned door. He passed me his cell phone, and I noticed Lisa miming a phone at him.

"Yeah," I said sheepishly, "I don't have a cell of my own."

"We'll get that for you tomorrow, too," Lisa said. "You're probably still wiped from dealing with Lung, so feel free to get some rest."

"And to steal my fucking seat."

"Just use the chair, Alec. Christ."

I couldn't protest. I flopped down onto the couch and dialed dad's number.


	7. Interlude: PRT

**Interlude 1.x**

Closer...

Carefully...

The proximity alarm beeped and he began slowly extracting the probe. Damn, he'd have to start fresh.

Miss Militia kicked the door open just as Armsmaster was removing the tungsten rod from his newest project. "What the hell, Colin!?"

"Make some more noise," he groused. He hated being interrupted while he worked. "If you were a little faster you might've caused me to explode.

"Don't try to set me on the defensive, Wallis." Hannah's dark eyes blazed with fury. "I read the report. No way the Undersiders did that to Lung. It was somebody else, somebody new." She'd already put the pieces together and was giving him a chance not to dig himself deeper.

"Yes," he huffed as he walked over to his old threadbare sofa, "it was Hebert. She fought him into retreating, by herself." Colin flipped up his work goggles and dropped onto the aged piece of furniture, which groaned in protest.

Hannah folded her arms across her chest, having pulled down her scarf so he could see in full detail the disapproving frown on her face. "And you stole the credit for her win?"

"She's powerful, Hannah. Incredibly so. She wasn't even scratched and she'd done more lasting damage to Lung than I'd ever seen. Somehow the alkaloid she'd hit him with was suppressing his regeneration." He frowned right back at her. "We're losing this war, slowly but surely. Anders shows people that he can provide them the safety we can't, and all they need do is subscribe to his ideology. The Merchants have the best chance of picking up traumatized new parahumans. And now we need to run damage control and keep Hess' actions out of the press."

Colin idly began fiddling with his goggles, needing something to keep his hands occupied while he spoke. "The PRT is struggling. All across the globe, we're faced with seemingly insurmountable challenges. And we can't even go after the villains like we should, because we need their power against the Endbringers. Hebert needs to understand that it's for the best if she joins the Wards. We need that kind of power and dedication, that moral compass."

Hannah stepped forward and popped him in the forehead with the heel of her hand. "So you undermine her success? You idiot! You come across as a glory hound and the Protectorate appears to be a tyrannical 'us versus them' situation! If anything, you've guaranteed that she'll never join!" She turned to stalk out of the room.

"Hannah. Don't make this worse."

She stopped but didn't turn around. "I don't think I could. But we owe this girl for our failings. I might not be able to fix everything, but I can hopefully show her that we're not all like Hess."

Colin sat in silence for several long minutes, scratching at his fingertips with his thumbnails. He eventually walked over to his computer, firing up the innumerable racks of servers. "Dragon, are you there?"

The screen flickered and changed to show a slightly grainy image of a pretty, petite redhead. "Colin. You look upset."

He told her the entire story. Despite the fact that they lived more than a thousand miles apart and had never met in person, Dragon was his dearest friend. He spared no detail, desperate for her advice.

Dragon's face scrunched up adorably in thought. "That's...yeah, that's a problem." She sighed and let her shoulders droop. "Look, Colin, I'm not gonna mince words. You screwed the pooch on this. My recommendation? Stay out of it. The girl has good reason to hate you and any action you take _will_ be seen in the worst possible light. Hannah's a smart girl; I trust her to do her best to make the situation salvageable. Meantime? Just focus on the Protectorate. Let others handle Taylor."

Colin could only nod. "I'm sorry for causing this mess. I just...you know I'm not good with people."

She smiled. "I don't know about that. You're good with me."

"That's because we can talk Tinker tech. We understand each other. I..." He sighed.

"Colin, stop stressing over this. You can't repair it. Let others, people with the specializations to deal with these things, handle it. Now, what are you working on over there?" She pointed past him to the tungsten rod on his workbench.

(BREAK)

Hannah huffed to herself, her energy having formed into a pair of padded gloves. She pounded the heavy bag, needing to get her frustration out before she took any more action. That utter _idiot_! How could he do that? Armsmaster had potentially made a permanent enemy of, by all appearances, an extremely powerful parahuman. Sure, he had good intentions, but he went about it in exactly the wrong way.

Toweling herself off, Hannah shifted two a pair of uzis and holstered them. She picked up her smartphone. "Director, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"_Not at the moment. I'm on dialysis for another hour or so and there's nothing good on TV."_ Emily Piggot might hate parahumans, but she almost liked Miss Militia. Hannah had seen true evil and understood that parahumans were even more dangerous than zealots with guns. The two were of like mind on many subjects and, had Hannah been normal, Piggot could have seen them becoming friends. _"I hope this isn't an emergency."_

"Not exactly. If you haven't seen the report already, Armsmaster made a significant mistake with Hebert last night. It may have burnt any bridges between her and the PRT, and all evidence points to her being a heavy hitter."

"_That's unfortunate. Do we need to designate her as a villain?"_

"That's...not what I was thinking, Director. I think that we still have a chance, or at least I'd like to hope. Hebert has a strong moral compass and doesn't trust authority. It makes sense, since she's been failed by those in power so often. I'd like to offer her an olive branch, granting at least one of her requests. She wanted to transfer to Arcadia; let's make that happen."

"_You think that will be enough?"_

"Doubtful. But it's a start, and more than anyone's done for her in years, I'll wager. We need to show her our best side, and not the photoshopped PR side. We need to show her we do genuine good. If we can win her over, maybe we can do the same with other troubled parahumans."

"_Fewer capes with the gangs, more with us. Alright, I'll see what I can do. And Militia? Good work."_


	8. Interlude: Therapy

**Interlude 1.y**

Alan Barnes toyed with a crease in his slacks, as he'd been doing for the last hour at least. He was starting to wear at the fabric but couldn't bring himself to care. His beloved daughter, his beautiful, perfect Emma, was in the other room speaking to a cape therapist. Moreover, she'd been in an intensive-care facility for victims of trigger events or other psychotic breaks for nearly a week beforehand. Alan had wanted nothing more than to bundle Emma up, hug her tight and never let her go, but he'd already failed her before. She would need these sessions, one-on-one with an acclaimed parahuman psychiatrist, to recover and hopefully be herself again.

He was still coming to terms with the fact that Emma was a parahuman. The thought made him sick to his stomach. Capes always had to choose a side; rogues never lasted long. Usually they ended up forcibly recruited into a villain group or just killed outright. That meant that his baby girl would have to join the Wards for a chance at safety.

He couldn't protect her anymore.

That was what hit him the hardest. He found parahumans abhorrent and had caught himself thinking about Emma's status with some degree of revulsion, but beyond any of that he was her father. He was supposed to keep her safe, no matter what. He knew she was bullying Taylor, but that was her decision. She deserved to be able to decide what to do with her life. Daddy would always keep her safe. But now, now he couldn't. Someone like Kaiser wouldn't care that he was a lawyer. Alan couldn't threaten to sue the Merchants.

Alan liked to think of himself as a smart man. When Emma started suddenly hanging off of Sophia, he'd eventually put two and two together and realized that the black girl was the vigilante who'd saved Emma from those rapists. But somehow he'd missed Emma's...he had to admit it. Emma's madness. Perhaps it was simply that she was happy, perhaps it was because he couldn't "shine," as she called it. And as he sat in the waiting room, he put together the facts again. That was why Emma had gone back to Taylor: she could shine. Danny's girl was a cape too.

Taylor. Alan tasted the foul bile of shame. Even after everything Emma had done to her, after he'd betrayed Danny's friendship, Taylor had still called him and told him about Emma's problems. The Heberts were better people than he could ever hope to be. The realization hit him like a haymaker to the jaw, and he tried his best to deny it. He was more successful, his word carried weight. Danny was nothing but the leader of the dying Dockworkers' Union. Emma was beautiful and had a modeling career in front of her. Taylor was gawky and plain, and painfully shy.

But the Heberts were better people. God, it hurt to acknowledge that. But he couldn't find a way to deny it. Alan had been all too willing to throw his childhood friend, and his daughter's childhood friend, to the wolves in order to protect a daughter whose suffering he hadn't even noticed. He and Emma both would have to try to make it up to them. Even without having wronged them so badly, they still owed Taylor for helping Emma.

(BREAK)

**One hour earlier**

Jessica Yamada smiled at the girl in front of her. The redhead was stunningly gorgeous and was studying her like she was some sort of animal. Of course, if she let herself be offended by that, she couldn't very well be of any help to someone like Garrote, could she?

"Alright, Emma, this therapy is for your benefit. I specialize in counseling parahumans, so you can trust me to keep any secrets about you or your friends."

"Funny that you counsel capes, yet you can't shine."

Jessica tilted her head. "Shine? I'm afraid I don't understand."

Emma just smirked knowingly. "People keep telling me that. I guess I'm the only one who can see it. Sophia, Taylor, your secretary, they all had little lights inside them. I call them pilot lights. And then, when they break free, those lights blaze forth and just _shine_." The girl said it so romantically, it sounded awe-inspiring.

Jessica connected the dots. "So, after they have their trigger events, they shine?"

Emma nodded, happy that Dr. Yamada understood. "Yeah. I was worried I was confused when I saw Taylor again. I thought she started to shine in the locker, but then she acted exactly the same when she came back from the hospital. But then she started to fight back, and she beat Sophia. And then, when I saw her last time, she was shining even brighter! I've never seen one so bright before!"

"And that's when you kissed her."

Emma had the grace to blush. "Yeah. I'm a little embarrassed about that. I was just overwhelmed. She was so _bright_..." The girl spoke like it was a fetish. "It's, well, I guess it's a turn-on. I wanted to be close to Sophia. She shone, and she was so strong. She's a predator, and she knows it. But Taylor... It's like the difference between Seth Rogen and Brad Pitt."

"You couldn't help yourself."

"It helps that she's gotten prettier. I mean, I usually like boys, but Sophia's really hot. Taylor doesn't have her looks, but that shine makes up for it and then some."

"Did you know she'd shine so bright?" This girl was a very interesting case. Jessica just hoped she could set her right.

"No. I just wanted her to be free. Taylor, she was always so shy and weak. It hurt me to see her like that, when I knew she could be more."

"And that's why you hurt her. You knew trigger events are caused by trauma, and you needed to hurt her until she triggered."

The girl didn't show a hint of remorse. "It had to be me. Somebody else, even Sophia, would have just wanted to hurt Taylor for the sake of hurting her. Only I understood her well enough to make it work. When she didn't break free, no matter what, I came up with the locker idea. And it worked!" Okay, scratch that. Not only was she remorseless, she was _proud_.

"Emma," Jessica kept her voice even and calm, "you realize that, because you succeeded, that means you hurt Taylor deeper than anything else has."

Emma smiled back. "I knew she could take it. She's always been the strong one, after all. I made it through my trigger and I know I'm not as tough."

Dr. Yamada flipped through her notes. "Emma, after your trigger, you had your friends and family to support you and help you recover. Taylor triggered after losing her mother and the only friend she had. You must realize that, regardless of your intentions, Taylor sees that her _best friend_ hurt her mercilessly for two years. She had no support except for her father. While you knew Taylor would be there for you if you needed it, you betrayed her." Jessica knew she was taking a gamble: either Emma would actually listen, her love for her friend overriding the psychosis that was clouding her perception, or she would reject the truth and slip further away. "You never stopped thinking of Taylor as your friend. But you hurt her, without any remorse or apology. You made Taylor stop thinking of you as her friend."

"Well, yeah, but..." The smile slid from Emma's face. Reality had just found its way to her. That blank expression gave way to shame and self-loathing. "Oh god. Oh fuck, how did I not see that? Oh Taylor..." Emma started to cry, slumping forward in her chair. "My Taylor..."

Dr. Yamada took the opportunity to bite her lip and let a concerned expression work its way onto her face while Emma wasn't watching. This girl was deeply disturbed, fixated on her former friend and obsessed with parahuman power. Jessica calmed her emotions again. "Emma, the fact that you've realized your mistake is a good thing. This means you can try to make things better." The girl gave her a questioning look through watery, bloodshot eyes. "Taylor still called your dad. She doesn't hate you. Maybe she pities you, but even that is better than outright despising you. You need to make amends. Maybe here, if Taylor agrees to come. Maybe with your parents and her dad present. Either way, you need to show her you're willing to do what you can to make it right."

Emma nodded eagerly. "You're right, Dr. Yamada. I hurt my best friend and I need to fix it." She looked down again. "It's just, I don't know if I can. I hurt her so badly, for so long. I was just focused on setting her free, I didn't think how it might affect her."

"Then think of this as a lesson. We all need to take a step back and look at the potential results of our actions. You know the saying how the road to hell is paved with good intentions? This is what that means: you wanted to do something good for your friend but didn't consider how she'd feel about what you did. The ends do not justify the means, Emma." Jessica looked the girl straight in the eyes. "I'd like to see you next week, and we can discuss your own trigger event and your ideas for making things better. Now, I want you to promise me that you won't try contacting Taylor until we've had a chance to discuss things. You don't want to accidentally make things even worse."

Emma nodded, silent and subdued. She was a vastly different girl than the one who'd come into the office. Dr. Yamada could only hope it was a change for the better as she led Emma to the door and invited Mr. Barnes into the office for a moment to discuss things with him.

Outside, Emma eyed Dr. Yamada's secretary. The woman had a pilot light glowing within her head, begging to be freed. She forced down the urge to help. Dr. Yamada had been right; trigger events were horribly traumatic. If she tried to help, she'd probably end up hurting the woman. She needed to take stock of her thoughts, figure out a way to help people without torturing them.

Emma had a new goal in life. But before she could pursue it, she'd need to make reparations to Taylor.


	9. Essence 01

**Essence 2.01**

I awoke, tired and cramped. No more sleeping on couches. I arched my back, feeling my muscles pop. Immediately bloodflow increased and I felt revitalized. I didn't question it much; my physique had been improving almost daily and I had some goo sac in my guts. Getting rid of stiff joints was pretty low on my list of weird things.

"Good morning!" Good lord, was Tattletale always this cheery? I might get up early most mornings but I wasn't exactly happy about it. She perched on the arm of the couch. "I got you some clothes," she grinned, "so you don't have to go out as Skitter."

"That was smart of you," I replied, sitting up. She immediately dragged me off to the empty room – my room – and picked up a plastic bag.

From within, she extracted a crop top, a pair of short shorts, and a baggy hoodie. She smirked at my raised eyebrow. "You've never been the type to show off." It wasn't a question. Damn that power of hers. "But you're a pretty girl, Taylor. You shouldn't be afraid to flaunt what you've got."

I scowled at her but she just smiled in return and left the room. _Hell. It's these clothes or running around as Skitter in broad daylight and trying to sneak back home._ I stepped into the shorts, slipped on the top, and zipped the hoodie. Pulling the drawstrings, I made sure the hood was secure around my scalp.

Lisa wolf-whistled as I stepped out. "Nice pins, Taylor!" She grinned wide. "Give us a little shimmy!"

Was I suddenly a magnet for lesbian lusts? I winced to the side and saw Brian standing there. Oh, so she was just trying to embarrass me. Oddly, it didn't feel hurtful like Emma's actions did; more like she was just ribbing me, trying to get a blush. It felt...normal.

I decided to take the high road and stick my tongue out at Lisa before thumping her in the stomach. "So who's gonna walk me home?"

"I called dibs," Lisa replied. She smirked at me and tugged my hoodie down. I mussed her hair in reply.

Yeah, it felt good to have friends.

(BREAK)

"Dad, I'm home!"

My father practically shot out of his office and pulled me into a tight hug.

"Dad," I laughed, "we have company."

He chuckled but didn't fully let go, one arm around my waist. "You must be Lisa," he smiled. "How did you and Taylor meet?"

I could tell that Lisa was ready to cook up some story, so I cut her off. "Lisa's part of my new team. Well, more accurately, the team I'm partnered with."

The blonde quirked a brow and I looked up at my dad. "Dad? I need you to keep a secret and not make judgments until we're done."

Lisa looked at me. "Taylor, are you sure?" She fidgeted uncomfortably.

I nodded to her. "Dad, Lisa's a villain." I cut him off as he was about to get flustered. "Armsmaster fucked me over, dad. The PRT doesn't want me succeeding on my own; they're trying to force me to join the Wards. I'd never be able to join a hero group without a reputation, and the Protectorate seem determined to keep that from me. Only other way would be to show my full power, and that's more likely to get me quarantined as a proto-Nilbog."

I gestured to Lisa, who still looked ready to bolt. "Lisa and the Undersiders gave me a chance. They put themselves on the line to treat me like a normal person. They might be criminals, but they're also my best bet at taking down the real bad guys."

Dad was still clearly confused. "But, Taylor, you'll be labeled a villain. That was never what you wanted..." He hugged me tighter. "Baby girl, I know the Protectorate hurt you, but you can't retaliate like this."

I kissed his shoulder. "No, dad, I thought about it. I'm only with them to take down other villains. This comes down to doing what society sees as right, or doing what I know is right. I could join the Wards, sign autographs, make photo ops, and never do a goddamn bit of difference. Or I can let myself be reviled and feared, and subsequently take down threats like Kaiser. Save Brockton Bay."

He shook his head and chuckled a little sadly. "I never should've let you watch The Dark Knight."

Lisa joined in on the chuckles, noticeably less tense. "Hey, Aleph has it right this time. Sometimes you gotta play the bad guy to be the good guy."

My father fixed her with an icy gaze. "Will she be safe?"

"Safer than most, I think," Lisa replied. "We'll do our best to protect her. Rachel's a bit of a psycho but she should eventually come to protect Taylor. Mr. Hebert, my power tells me that Taylor's a good person. I already really like her. I don't want anything to happen to her."

I just blinked, my expression deadpan. This kind of loyalty, after one night? What happened? Or was this more of Lisa's power? Did she see – or somehow foresee – a huge benefit to being my friend, or a massive threat if she made an enemy of me? Regardless, it felt like she was being honest and that meant a lot to me. Maybe I was just desperate to be able to trust someone after two years of hell, but I wanted to believe her.

Dad had been quiet, presumably processing everything. He nodded, mostly to himself. "Alright, Lisa, come sit down and tell me about your team."

(BREAK)

By the time Lisa departed, she'd done a lot to allay dad's worries. Mine, too, were I being honest. The Undersiders felt like kids trying to make the best of their own bad situations after having been hung out to dry by authority figures. That reminded me a lot of myself. Had circumstances been different, I probably would've ended up with the Undersiders as a full member. But, as I'd stressed to Lisa, I wasn't. I was no villain, and I wouldn't help the team steal from civilians. Gangs and villains were fair game; I'd rob the shit out of E88. But if they had another job like their recent casino heist Lisa had told us about? I wouldn't be there.

Lisa informed me as she left that I'd have some basic furniture waiting for me at base, as well as a new smartphone. She also passed me a roll of cash and told me to buy new clothes to keep in the loft for when I'd need to change.

It was still bizarre how well dad was taking this. I suppose he saw it the same way I did: the Undersiders were the best of bad options.

(BREAK)

The day went surprisingly well after that. Kurt and Lacey, two of dad's friends, came over to visit. The couple were as inseparable as the letters K and L in the alphabet, with Kurt working a crane at the docks and Lacey running a food truck. Kurt was about my height, broad in shoulder and in forehead. He looked like a wild-haired neanderthal, all tanned skin and scratchy brown hair. He was quick to laugh and kindhearted. Lacey was, as some might describe her, the silver medal. She wasn't the prettiest girl around, nor the smartest, and her fashion sense was somewhere between New Jersey and a truck stop. But she was loyal, hardworking and as sweet as could be.

As the pair got settled in, I opted to go for a run. I got back just as the mail was coming in.

"Bill, bill, junk, charity, ad..." I sifted through the letters, sorting them into the pile to show dad and the pile to just throw out. I stopped when I came upon a letter from Arcadia High School.

Normally I let dad open the mail, mostly because I didn't want the headache. This time, however, I delicately tore open the envelope and read the contents.

_Dear Ms. Hebert,_

_Based on your grades and the recommendation of several community members of high standing, we at Arcadia High School would like to offer you the opportunity to transfer and complete your education within our institution._

A lot of self-promotion followed, and it was signed by Principal Joseph Corwell.

My first instinct was just to toss the letter. It was obviously a ploy to weasel into my good graces, the "members of high standing" clearly Protectorate capes. But that was just my anger talking; whatever else was at work, Arcadia was the safest and best place for a teenager to get an education. I'd talk it over with dad once Kurt and Lacey were gone, but I figured we'd be stupid not to take the opportunity. Arcadia might represent the interests of the Wards, but I wouldn't pass up the chance for a fresh start.

(BREAK)

The next day I was up with the dawn. I felt better than I had since we'd lost mom. I went out for a run before breakfast and completed my laps without even feeling winded. Breakfast was just cereal, but I got the chance to spend some time with dad before he headed down to the docks. I then packed up my Skitter costume into a messenger bag and took off to Undersiders HQ.

Despite the fact that they were villains, the Undersiders looked like any other bunch of teens when they weren't on a job. Rachel was grooming one of her dogs – Brutus, if I remembered right – Lisa was on the phone, and Brian and Alec were playing a racing game. Lisa and Brian looked happy to see me, Alec was his usual jackass self, and Rachel didn't acknowledge me. I supposed that was better than sic'ing her dogs on me, at least. Lisa passed me the key to my new room without even pausing in her discussion, which was in some other language. German or Swedish, maybe.

I let myself in and smiled. It wasn't much now but I could make it work. A decent mattress, California King to accommodate a girl of my height; a nice tiered desk with drawers and a rolly chair; and a big fluffy chair, presumably for recreation. I could pick out more stuff later, like a TV of my own. If I would be spending time here, it wouldn't do to go stir-crazy.

Lisa stood in my doorway. "Hey, can we talk?"

I shrugged and gestured to the overstuffed chair while taking a seat on my bed. "What's on your mind?"

"When you said you weren't really with us..." She let it hang, allowing me to finish her sentence in my head.

"I meant it," I replied, sticking to my guns. "If we have a backer, I figure we'll be expected to hurt innocent people steal from civilians. I'm not going to take part in that. If absolutely necessary I can pose as a hostage, but I don't want to be seen as someone who hurts people. I want to be a kingsnake, a villain who hunts other villains."

"I get that," she said, her tone cautious. "It's just a very naïve view for someone so otherwise jaded." She rested her chin on her fist. "Rogues don't last long because the world has a very black-and-white view of capes. If you're not part of the PRT, you've got to have some dark reason you don't want to be. So in the public's mind you're a villain or the next worst thing. There are very few capes who can survive on their own, and even then it's usually by integrating into some other system." She realized I wasn't exactly following.

"What I'm saying, Taylor, is that you're going to have public opinion against you from the moment you step out in costume. Unknowns are dangerous and scary, and you'll have the further handicap of working alongside established villains." She looked me in the eyes. "I'm saying you're going to eventually have to go up against the good guys in order to survive. You're not with them, so you're against them, and they'll have no compunctions against letting you do all the work for them and then dumping you in the Birdcage so they can take the credit."

I was reminded of Armsmaster's backstabbing. "Jesus, Lisa, you're even more cynical than I am."

"But I'm not wrong. Eventually you won't be able to be a hero with bad PR. You'll have to decide if you'll be content living your life in the Birdcage, or if you're willing to fight for your freedom."

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it," I said in a voice far more certain than I felt. "For now, my caveats stand. If you want me to leave because of that, I will. But to speak my peace, I like you guys so far. I think we could be friends. And I feel, sadly enough, that out of all the capes in the Bay you're the ones I can trust the most."

Lisa snorted. "Yeah, that is kinda sad. Okay, I'll break it to the others as best I can." She patted my shoulder as she passed. "You get settled in."

After Lisa left, I laid on the bed and just let myself think. So the Undersiders had a backer. That made sense; the group was too disparate to have come together naturally. Grue was the leader but he didn't seem the type to rally others to a cause, particularly one of villainy. Tattletale had said their backer's goal was to revitalize the Bay. Could I believe that? Maybe, but then again Kaiser's goal was to revitalize the entire country, starting with Brockton Bay. I'd seen sections of the city controlled by Empire Eighty-Eight: they were safer than anywhere protected by the PRT, but only for those who fit E88's agenda. Non-white ethnicities, Jews, the disabled, homosexuals, "sexual deviants," they were all killed or driven out. Revitalized didn't necessarily mean safe or even good.

But the Undersiders themselves all reminded me of myself, in a way: kids dealt a shitty hand in life and trying to make the best of it. This backer, I'd have to feel him out myself and determine whether he'd be a threat. Brian, Lisa, Alec and even Rachel? I found myself genuinely wanting to be their friend.

Again I had to take stock of my own mental processes. Was it my mental trauma, my psychotic break that was making me more aggressive? Or was that a side effect of my power? Would I have to work to rein myself in lest I become a savage killer like Jack Slash or Shatterbird? It worried me. We still had so little understanding of how powers worked. We–

My mind froze. I leapt off the bed and bolted out the door, nearly bowling over Lisa in the process. I dropped, cracking my knees on the linoleum, and began to vomit into the toilet. Like before, it was a seemingly endless torrent of thick, custardy slime. And like before, I could feel my innards writhing beneath my skin. This time it wasn't limited to my stomach: I could feel veins and fibers in my arms and legs slithering around, a strange tightening sensation in my ribs, and a strange heaviness around my spine.

Brian flushed the toilet for me while Lisa rubbed my back. My jaw was frozen in place as still more flowed, necessitating a second and third flushing. Finally I was able to snap my mouth shut, gasp desperately for air, and fall over onto my side. I swallowed the remnants and saw Alec and Rachel in the doorway. Rachel stared in a sort of morbid curiosity, Alec in fascination.

My chest heaved, lungs burning as I sucked in air. Lisa paced around me, eyes roving up and down my body. Ordinarily I might have been offended, but the clinical expression on her face made her eye-undressing creepy in the evil surgeon way rather than the serial flasher way.

"Huh," she commented, and for a while that was all she said.

"...Well? Spit it out!" Alec clearly wanted the scoop on my weirdness.

"Her musculature has completely rearranged itself. Instead of individual muscle groups, it's now more like nanotech. Well," she admitted sheepishly, "that's the best analogy I can think of at the moment. Her entire body somehow shares the burden of anything she does, yet each individual fiber does its own job. Quite frankly, it's fascinating. Could you roll onto your stomach, Taylor?"

I complied, and got another 'huh' for my troubles. "Your spine now has some sort of cartilaginous sheath, presumably for increased resilience. I can also see the same stuff beneath your ribcage."

"This is the weirdest shit I've ever seen in person," Alec commented.

"I second that," I surprised everyone by replying.

Brian helped me stand. He was tall and well-built, but still, being lifted up really showcased how strong he was. I tried not to blush. "Are you alright? That didn't look normal. I mean, normal for you."

I chuckled. He sounded as awkward as I usually was. "It's not. Only happened once before, when my body rearranged itself for my goop bladder. No idea why it'd do this, though." I rapped my knuckles on my ribcage. "I can't say I'm upset. More protection is always a good thing."

"That's what she said," Alec sniped.

Rachel had already gone back to her dogs, apparently having decided I was no longer interesting.

"We should get you in bed," Brian said.

Again that brought other thoughts into my mind – damn teenage hormones – and I mumbled a protest while taking a step forward. My knees promptly buckled and Brian easily caught me.

"Taylor, whatever happened, you're in no condition to walk." I'd expected him to scoop me up bridal style but instead he flipped me over his shoulder in the fireman's carry.

Lisa walked ahead of us and untucked the sheets so Brian could lay me down. I was too tired to protest. That one semi-fall seemed to have reminded my body that I was in no condition to move, and now the room wouldn't stop swimming. My mind reeled and I pushed into my bugs in an attempt to steady myself. I overheard the conversation outside.

"I need to head back home, check on Aisha. Can you make sure she's alright?" Shit, I was having trouble differentiating voices. That one just sounded mechanical. Since Tattletale had a room here and Grue didn't, I presumed this was his voice.

"Of course. And before you ask, no I don't know how all that happened. I'm suspecting it's some specialized Breaker or Changer power, and that she doesn't have full control over it. If she did, I figure she'd have regrown her hair by now."

"Maybe she'll grow a tail next, or beetle wings!" That jovial voice had to be Alec.

"As long as she won't be dead weight." Bitch, probably. Though it could also have been Brian, or at least that's what a little voice in the dark corner of my mind told me.

Things got fuzzier still and I couldn't make out anything. The world went dark as I slipped away.

Destination.

Agreement.

Trajectory.

Agreement.

**Intersect**.


	10. Essence 02

**A/N:** To respond to some reviewer questions, no, I'm not on SpaceBattles or any other fanfic/forum site. I'm terrible with coding, so even so little as putting together a chapter index on SpaceBattles seemed like too much trouble. If you really think I should try posting, please PM me with some basic instructions as to how. The less stress I have to go through to post, the more often I can put up new chapters!

**Essence 2.02**

For the second time in a week, my arm felt like it was being ripped out of its socket. I collapsed to the floor and managed to open my eyes, blurry vision solidifying into Rachel looming over me. She reached down and I braced myself for the pain to come, but instead she hauled me to my feet. "We have to go," she said simply before whistling. One of her dogs, already the size of a pony, trotted in. Its flesh was still slick with blood and whatever other fluids burst from it during the transformation. "Get changed, then climb on Angelica." She stooped low to the ground, looking like a hound on guard. The tension in her posture was infectious and I felt my own body coiling to react.

I was too tired to protest or ask further questions. I slipped out of my clothes and into my Skitter costume, then staggered over to drape myself over the dog, keeping my legs tucked up and linking my arms around her ribcage. Angelica swelled a bit more to compensate for my weight and followed Bitch down the stairs.

Brutus and Judas were already there, grown to the size of Clydesdales. Grue, Regent and Tattletale were likewise in full regalia, and I noticed belatedly that Grue had clogged all the windows and doors with his darkness.

"What's going on?" I managed to croak out the question despite every nerve telling me to just fall back asleep.

"Bakuda's gone off the deep end," Grue replied. His power caused his voice to echo and distort, the result very unsettling. He took in another breath but winced as the building rumbled. I realized that was the shockwave from an explosion. "The ABB are going berserk, attacking anyone and everyone they can reach. Others are planting bombs and destroying whole buildings."

"Is this retaliation for Lung getting taken down?"

"Possibly," Tattletale replied. "Bakuda's also a complete psychopath, so maybe without Lung to rein her in she just decided to play cut-price Armageddon."

"Point is," Grue continued, "the bombs are following a pattern for the most part, spiraling out from a spot on the Boardwalk. If that pattern holds, our base might get hit." He climbed atop the dog, offering Tattletale a hand up. "Our best bet is to move into areas that've already been bombed, take shelter and plan our next move."

I put the facts together as Bitch hauled Regent onto the other dog. "My dad–"

"Will be safe for now," Tattletale said with an air of certainty. "The initial bombing pattern will pass him by and the city is already organizing an evacuation. Protectorate and Wards are mobilizing, as well as the DHS and National Guard."

Angelica grew again, this time to the size of an average horse, and Bitch gave a yell. She took the lead on her beast and the other dogs followed.

(BREAK)

I'd never seen a warzone firsthand but I was willing to bet that the aftermath of Bakuda's bombings approximated one well enough. Buildings were collapsed or gutted with flame, others seemingly shaken apart. There was such a wide variety of carnage and destruction. Of course one of the villains here in Brockton Bay would have to be an evil Tinker, and a mad bomber no less.

I'd gathered a decent-sized swarm as we rode, keeping the bugs to back alleys and rooftops to avoid drawing attention. I wasn't sure how useful they would be, but I was damn sure I wouldn't be caught unarmed.

"So," I spoke up as we sheltered inside one of the gutted-by-fire buildings, "what did you mean when you said the bombings were mostly following a pattern?"

Tattletale hopped off and hit the ground talking while Grue helped me stand. "It's mostly a pattern sort of like the Milky Way." She drew the multiple spiraling arms in ash on the wall. "But then," she poked several random dots around the pattern, "she's hitting other locations. A grade school, a hospital, a fucking used car lot..." She shook her head. "It's so precise and then she does this. It doesn't make sense."

"Down," Bitch whispered in a steady tone and her three monsters laid on the ground, staying silent. We followed suit, letting Grue shroud us in darkness.

"ABB patrol," his voice echoed around me, "three guys. Leave them be for now. Until we have a plan, we don't want to draw attention."

I could tell Bitch wasn't happy about that decision, but Grue grabbed her by the leg and she relented. I understood his reasoning. Of the five of us, only I was wearing reliably bulletproof gear and even then I wouldn't expect my costume to last long under automatic fire.

While we waited, I turned around and looked at the drawing Tattletale had made. Perhaps I could sort it out. "...Tattletale," I whispered, "what other spots have been hit outside the pattern?"

"Uh...grade school, hospital, car lot... A parking garage, an apartment complex, and a fire station."

I sat in confusion. Sure, a school and a hospital were high-value targets, as was a fire station, and an apartment complex would require a lot of search-and-rescue, but the garage and lot? None of these sounded special enough to matter. It was just random nonsense in the middle of a mad bombing.

"Maybe that's it." I didn't realize I'd said that aloud until Grue, Regent and Tattletale had turned to look at me. I blushed a little at the attention. "Look, none of these spots really matter in the grand scheme of things, right? And certainly not to the ABB. But they _do_ matter to the city. The car lot and parking garage are huge destruction-per-square-foot, while the others are important for search-and-rescue." I turned to face them. "I was thinking that these spots are nonsense, but it's _all_ nonsense. What if this isn't to send a message or to destroy a certain target? What if it's all a distraction?"

Regent waved his hand. "...For?"

"For busting out Lung, I'll bet. On the one hand the ABB get to show that even with their leader gone they're still a threat – and maybe even a bigger threat, which should give the PRT pause in arresting him next time. On the other, with everyone focused here on Brockton Bay, who's paying attention to whatever's taking Lung to the Birdcage?" My mind was racing as I spoke. I couldn't tell if this was a genuine deduction or just rambling while grasping at straws, but it was the best I had.

It was Regent who spoke up. "Skitter, can you spread your bugs around?"

I nodded, doing as he asked. "Sure. Why?"

"Because if you're right, Lung will probably be on the warpath when he gets back. I'd like for the ABB to have as few members as possible once he gets here." He turned that fucking mask toward me. "I say we start setting up some ambushes."

(BREAK)

I decided that, for future endeavors, we'd need to get bluetooth earpieces or something so we could better coordinate across distances. For the moment, we were limited to about a block, giving each other signals from windows. The plan was simple enough, and I was thankful to Regent for thinking of it. The only thing that killed us now was the waiting. Bitch especially was getting restless. Thankfully, before anything could come of it, a patrol happened along.

There were four of them this time, coming from the same direction as the previous group. The ABB must have been planning to hold all of the bombed territory. Sucked to be them.

I watched, waiting for the opportunity. As the quartet came to the middle of the street, the one in the rear suddenly had a spasm in his leg and fell with a cry. The others turned, looking around for the culprit. The moment they looked down to their comrade, I struck. Thousands of bugs poured off the rooftops, undulating curtains of dark chitin. They landed on our targets, biting, stinging, scratching, harrying. The point wasn't necessarily to kill, so I kept the majority of spiders on silk-weaving duty.

Several seconds after my assault started, Grue blanketed the area in his darkness, muting the sound. We ducked back inside as bullets snapped against the buildings' walls, the gunshots lost in the ebon miasma. I could still feel the figures inside struggling until, one by one, they lost hope and fell to the ground. I brought in my widows to drape silk over them, leaving them bound.

I wiggled my smartphone through the window, the metal back catching the sunlight and flashing repeatedly. We all came out of the buildings and Grue pulled back his darkness. Regent systematically tased each one of them, I got them zip-cuffed, and we dragged them into the building's interior. Even better, now we each had a submachine gun. Well, except Bitch, but she was insistent that she only needed her dogs. As the beasts were now the size of small SUVs, I couldn't disagree.

Grue dusted his hands off and straightened up. "Great work. I figure we can follow that strategy a few more times before anybody starts to catch on."

I felt some of my outlying bugs die, an earbug picking up what might have been the roar of engines. "Shit." I ushered the others deeper into the building. "Something's coming this way. A vehicle of some sort, moving fast."

I got us ensconced deeper into the bombed-out depths of the structure and coughed up some eyebugs to check what was going on. Three vehicles pulled up, two dune buggies with trailers loaded with bangers – at least twenty ABB grunts – and one contraption that looked like the mutant love child between a humvee and a pick-up truck. A huge machine gun was mounted in the bed, and leaning on the roof of the cab was the only person in costume: Bakuda.

"Oh dear," she called out, her acting intentionally bad, "whatever has happened to my soldiers? I sent them here to patrol, and they never reported in!" Her lips split in a sadistic grin. "Oh well..."

The room where we'd stored the gangbangers exploded with enough force to launch me through a window. I impacted another building and my vision was shot, seeing in blurry quadruple-scope. I tried to focus on my bugs but most of them had been blown up or baked by the resulting heatwave. I dropped to my hands and knees and heaved, much like a cat with a hairball, coughing up a waterfall of several hundred mutant bugs. Eyebugs and earbugs, certainly, but also some of my older inventions: a bumblespider for spreading silk; a ladydragon that was immune to most poisons and could, in large numbers, airlift a body; and lots and lots of pissed-off yellow widows, their stingers filled with potent spider venom. My limbs gave out and I collapsed in a boneless heap. I'd never called up that many bugs at once, and I was paying for it. I closed my eyes and let my senses leave my body. I couldn't do anything with my own self, so my bugs would have to suffice.

So many eyes. It hurt my mind to process so much at once. Touch and location was simple enough, but having to process such detailed information from so many different sources, it felt like my brain was on fire.

Regent was bleeding through his shirt, Tattletale trying to staunch the hemorrhage. I sent my bumblespiders to her, laying silk over Regent's wound to serve as an exterior clot. I left them on autopilot to finish their work and then rejoin the swarm, so that I could conserve my brainpower.

Angelica (somehow it was easier to identify the different dogs through my bugs' eyes) lurched to her feet, concrete and glass lodged in her side. Brutus and Judas stood guard around Bitch, who was barely conscious. It was difficult – Bitch was stocky and heavier than I'd expected – but my ladydragons lifted Rachel onto Brutus' back and rested her there. Then I sent some more bumblespiders in to help secure her to the monster-dog's back.

And Grue... Bakuda's footsoldiers were loading Grue onto the technical. I launched my yellow widows after her and the ABB grunts, ready to inject them with potent venom. Inches before I could strike, Bakuda slapped something onto Grue's chest. "Stop or I vaporize him," she shouted.

My yellow widows froze midair. Damn it all... If I made a move Grue would die. I knew Bakuda would make good on her threat.

"So you're the bug bitch who took down Lung," she sneered. "Come on out so we can say hi."

Damn it. I couldn't move. I couldn't reveal myself. I just pulled my bugs back further, praying that Tattletale or Bitch could intervene.

Pain. I was bring grabbed by the neck. My senses surged back into my body. "Hi there," an Asian girl sneered at me, chapped lips curling back over yellowed teeth. She slammed the butt of her gun into my forehead.

(BREAK)

Again, I felt the pull on my wrists, my shoulder sockets. My toes brushed the ground and I felt moderately seasick, swaying slightly. My environment faded into view and I whimpered.

We were in a warehouse, each of us hanging by our wrists in a sort of suspended pillory. We were arranged in a sort of pentagon, so we could see each other. "Hey there, Skitter," Regent murmured.

I frowned. "Regent. How long have we been here?"

"Unno. Prob'ly a few hours, at least."

As if on cue, a heavy metal door slammed open. Bakuda sauntered in, a sadistic smirk on her face. "Yo." She stepped over and jostled Grue's helmet. "Wake up!"

Tattletale just stared at Bakuda, analyzing her in silence. I likewise did my best not to be noticed, as I brought in a parade of bugs. I had them squash themselves against my cuffs from top and bottom, their gooey innards dripping into the gaps between the metal and my wrists.

"So you're the Undersiders," Bakuda sneered as she slipped some metal knuckle dusters onto her right hand. "You fucks've been making things very inconvenient for the _real_ gangs of this city." She juked forward and delivered a hard jab to Grue's ribs. "But on the other hand," she punched lower this time, probably bruising his intestines, "you gave me the chance to run the ABB. As useful as Lung is at keeping the PRT away, he's not an ideal leader. So," another punch, she wound up this time, "I'm not going to kill you. I'm just going to break your fucking bones." She finished with a punch to Grue's helmeted head, the impact leaving him reeling. Bakuda moved over to Regent next.

This would take a lot of concentration, but I had to focus. Very carefully, I spit up an earbug as quietly as I could. I then flew it in formation in front of Tattletale: _TALK_ with an arrow pointing to my little listening insect.

"The room's rigged with explosives," she whispered as I brought the earbug as close to her lips as I safely could. "Same with her new recruits. It's all hooked to a dead-man's switch, so if she dies everything explodes. She controls the bombs with processors in toe rings." I looped the fly like one might rotate their hand in a 'keep talking' gesture. "Right foot," Tattletale concluded.

Regent cried out in agony, and I told myself I didn't just hear his ribs crack. I kept the procession of bugs, wriggling my wrists. The pain was excruciating and I was certain I'd break my hands, but I fought through it. I scanned the room and saw the combat knife on Tattletale's hip. I put together a plan as my left hand slipped free. I gripped the metal bar and wrenched, biting my lip hard enough to draw blood so that I didn't cry out. I timed my landing with Bakuda's next blow to Regent's midsection, then lunged for Tattletale's belt. Every last one of my bugs charged the bomber, doing everything they could to harry her.

I unsnapped the holster and drew Tattletale's knife, stalking toward Bakuda. Since I still didn't know how to punch, I let loose with a left-handed backhand slap, throwing my body weight behind it. I threw so much weight that I fell forward, throwing out my right arm. I aimed and prayed that I was accurate.

The asian madwoman screeched in agony when the knife separated her toes from the rest of her foot. I probably broke my elbow on impact but all that mattered was that I kept Bakuda from setting off her bombs. I grabbed her leg and stabbed again and again, intent on severing every last toe just to be safe.

Bakuda fell on me, using the same trick I had in order to slam her metal knuckles into my spine. I rolled under her, throwing the knife to the side. I couldn't afford to accidentally kill her. As we grappled, I was thankful that she wasn't a Tinker like Armsmaster, who worked on his body as much as his equipment. Without our powers, we were just two gawky young women wrestling on the ground. I eventually managed to yank off her armored mask and headbutt her, which did more damage to her than me. I received a fist in the mouth for my trouble and Bakuda managed to leverage me onto my back, where she latched her hands around my throat.

I was taller than her, with longer limbs, so I pushed against her chest with every ounce of strength I had. If I could push enough, she couldn't keep her grip on my neck. My vision, which had already tunneled from the panic of such a feral fight, was blurring as she cut off my air supply. I couldn't breathe and I was slowly weakening.

For the first time, I willingly put myself back in the locker. I remembered the pure panic, the fear, the determination that, even if I died, they would pay. With one last maddened shove, I managed to push her back. I pressed my newfound advantage and planted my foot in her solar plexus, using the last reserves of my strength to do whatever damage I could.

Bakuda crumpled into a heap but, much sooner than I would have liked, she rolled onto her hands and knees before vomiting up the contents of her stomach. The psychopath didn't even bother to wipe her mouth before she started crawling toward me again. I tried to do anything: put up my hands, crawl away, kick at her. My body wouldn't respond. I was completely spent. The world began to go black as she clawed her way up my torso.

Then a pair of black gloves grabbed her by the shoulders and hurled her backward onto the ground. Grue kicked her in the chest then landed on her, lifting her shoulders off the ground with one hand and punching her in the head with the other. Bakuda's head bounced off the concrete floor and she went still.

I could barely see the purple-and-black form of Tattletale picking the locks holding Regent before I slipped into unconsciousness.

(BREAK)

**Intersect**.

Intersect. Trajectory.

Agreement.

**Exchange**.

Defer.

Exchange.

(BREAK)

Voices. They swam through my mind like koi fish, occasionally putting on bursts of speed but mostly just lazily drifting. I tried to draw them closer, to understand them or even put a name to each voice, but it was like trying to reach through plastic. No matter how hard I pushed, I couldn't reach.

Colors blurred. Was I seeing them with my eyes? Were they blotches from irregularly firing nerves? Or was I seeing through my bugs? A white ceiling, or maybe a floor. A shock of gold. No, yellow hair. Brown fur. A bald scalp. Mine? White clothes. Regent. No, a coat. Labcoat? Doctor?

The sounds were making colors now. They rippled through my nerves, tickling. I'd been high on painkillers once. This was so much better. I giggled and the sound was strange, like hearing through tapioca.

Shiny. Silver, like ice skates. Glided along pink, leaving trails. White within, rising in spots like rocks under the tide. Unhappy sounds. I could understand now. No words, but I understood pain. Was I coming back? Where had I been?

The earth swirled like a flushing toilet. I could feel it now. My mind had been within my bugs. It had left my body. Why? I thought it was a good enough body. I reached out and plucked bits of myself from the swarm, cradling them close and squishing them together, trying to put myself back into one piece.

Slip. That's a weird sensation, entering yourself. Not in the concept of the spirit entering the body, but in the context – that's what I was looking for, _context_ – of pieces coming together. It felt slick, like warm butter. Things were getting clearer. A body thrashing on a metal slab, two broad shapes holding down the limbs. I couldn't feel scared yet; couldn't really feel.

(BREAK)

Our eyes see everything upside-down, then our brains turn that image right-side up. Each eye was whirling, the images flipping again and again. I clenched my eyelids shut, ordering my brain to start making sense. I could hear Alec screaming. I needed to help. I opened my eyes again.

I was in a doctor's clinic, or what passed for one. Bitch and Grue were holding Regent down while the doctor did something in his chest. Flecks of white. I guess Bakuda must have broken his ribs after all. I could only hope that he'd be alright. A wet cloth passed across my forehead and I turned to see Tattletale sitting beside me. She jumped a little.

"Oh! You're finally lucid." She gave me a warm smile. "We were worried. You lost oxygen flow to your brain for a bit, then you just went all glassy-eyed and catatonic."

I coughed and had to swallow down the slime. "Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah. You and Regent got it the worst. Grue's gonna be bruised for a while, but nothing broken. You've got two sprained wrists and will need to wear turtlenecks for the foreseeable future. Doc Q says Regent's gonna be okay."

I winced as the brunet screamed again. "Are...are you sure?" I eyed the younger boy with concern.

She just nodded. "I'm sure it hurts, bad, but he'll live. We'll need to lay low for a while after this."

"How'd you get free, anyway?" I needed to keep the conversation going; I was starting to fade out again.

"You inspired it, actually. I saw what you were doing with your bugs and, well," Tattletale held out her hands, to show me her bandaged wrists. "I didn't have an army of critters to suicide themselves for me, so I needed some other lubricant." She gave me a guilty look. "Hey, I don't want to impose, but...can we stay with you and your dad tonight? I'm not sure if the base survived and it's too dangerous to go through there anyway."

"How can I say no?" I watched as the doctor started to stitch Regent's chest shut. "This doctor's trustworthy, right?"

"He has to be. Works on anyone who can pay. If he squealed, he'd have an army of pissed-off parahumans and other assorted psychos after his blood." Tattletale reached over and squeezed my shoulder. "You were amazing tonight."

We sat in silence until it was time to leave. Grue sat on Brutus and held Regent upright, taking care not to touch the stitches. Bitch did the same with me, and Tattletale took Angelica.

I felt the world swim again and slumped against Bitch, resting my head on her shoulder. She held me tighter.


	11. Interlude: Hebert Household

**Interlude 2.x**

The ragged group approached Taylor's street from the direction opposite Undersiders HQ, having made a detour and looped around a large section of the city. Skitter might have protested but she'd been fading in and out as they rode. At the very least there was less destroyed road on this side.

The neighborhood was in a panic. At least three houses had been demolished from the shockwave of a bomb blast, and the rest were barricaded. Even in the failing light of evening, furniture could be seen propped against windows, plywood nailed up by the people who had it.

Tattletale gently urged Angelica to stop, the beast coming to rest on my front lawn. She hopped off and helped Grue carry Regent. Grue held the smaller boy bridal-style, with Tattletale walking backward to keep him steady. The ride had been worrisome enough; they needed no further reason to fear popping his stitches. Bitch likewise gave Skitter a surprisingly soft push forward, so she rested on the dog's neck and shoulders. The bulkier girl dismounted and then helped Skitter off, looping the thinner young woman's arm around her shoulders and helping her walk to the door.

While the Heberts didn't necessarily live in a bad neighborhood, anywhere in Brockton Bay that wasn't a gated community was usually fair game for the gangs. Years earlier, before Annette's death, the family had come up with a few different knocks to signify safety, being held hostage, and others. Skitter pounded on the door in the familiar rhythm, and after a few seconds she heard furniture being moved. Danny pulled open the door and wordlessly ushered them inside. Bitch whistled for her dogs, which had already shrunk to half their size and were steadily returning to normal.

Bitch let go of Skitter, letting the girl stagger to rest against the wall. She helped Danny push the bookcase back in front of the door. Tattletale led Grue to the couch, where they laid Alec down. The blonde began examining his stitches to make sure nothing had ruptured.

Once the barricade was back in place, Danny let his emotions free. "Jesus fuck, Taylor! What the hell happened? Is happening? What're you all... Fuck!"

Taylor couldn't help but wince at his tone. Her father rarely raised his voice in her presence. He'd once told her that he didn't want to be the kind of man who'd hurt his family, with violence or with words. But fear combined with the indignation of a father at his little girl who didn't stay safe, and he was screaming.

Brian was beside Taylor in an instant, fists clenched. She recognized that shaking, rigid posture, the remnants of trauma she'd seen in her own body after the locker. She staggered off the wall and rested a hand on each man's shoulder. "What happened is that we had to fight for our lives. What happened is that Bakuda went off the deep end and probably massacred hundreds." She locked eyes with her father through orange lenses. "What happened is that we took her down and saved hundreds if not thousands more, including you."

Danny surged forward and Brian's hand shot out. Before anyone could even really process what had happened, Taylor had slapped Brian's fist aside and was hugging her father. "We didn't want to fight," she spoke in a low tone. "We just wanted to hide and stay safe. But Bakuda found us. We took her down because, if we didn't, we would have died." She pulled down her cowl and smiled at him, eyes bloodshot and still moist with tears. "But I'm safe. We're all safe, and we're going to be keeping a low profile for a while."

Taylor shot a glare at Brian, who got the unspoken message. _Apologize_. "I'm sorry, Mister..." He removed his helmet while Lisa interjected with our last name. "...Hebert. I, well, I don't have a good history with older men and girls I care about. I should've realized that you weren't like that with her." He offered a handshake to my father. "Brian Laborn. Your daughter saved all our lives, sir."

"And I'm Aisha. Where's your pantry?"

Danny and Taylor practically leapt into each other's arms with an undignified yelp made all the worse in stereo. The same thought was in both of their minds: What the fuck!? Where had this girl come from? She was little, maybe thirteen, and already somehow more developed than Taylor. The girl was dressed...well, trashily was as good a term as any. Her attire was pretty much a halter top, cut low, and ripped leggings. Danny paused in his appraisal of his daughter to wonder how the hell this little girl got here. Had she–

Danny finished checking Taylor for obvious wounds, much to her consternation. In an attempt to shift attention, she made with the introductions. "In costume, Brian's Grue," dad snorted at this. He used to be a huge nerd. "Lisa, you know, is Tattletale. Alec, on the couch over there, is Regent. And Rachel, with the dogs, goes by Bitch but the PRT calls her Hellhound."

"Dumbass name," Rachel snorted while she helped her dogs bed themselves down on the living room rug. Again Taylor found herself drifting, this time musing about Rachel. She'd been amazingly gentle ever since the fight with Bakuda. Why was that? Taylor's head hurt too much to contemplate further.

"Mr. Hebert," Lisa spoke up as she stood, "we don't want to impose–"

"I do," Alec interjected weakly. Nobody bothered to smack him like usual.

"But we need someplace to stay and recover. With Bakuda out of the picture, hopefully things will cool down a little. We don't know if our base survived the bombings, and it's not safe for us to go find out while we're injured."

Taylor's dad nodded. "For tonight, I'm just glad my little girl's safe. You can stay and we'll talk more in the morning." He stooped a little and looped Taylor's arm around his neck, walking her to her room.

Making sure that they hadn't been followed, Danny shut the door behind them. All of this madness was too much at once. He needed to make sure they weren't making her act against her will. "Taylor, are you really okay?"

Taylor opted to reply by pulling down her costume to expose heinous purple-black bruising on her throat. If not for the fact that she was alive and talking, Danny would have assumed someone with those injuries to be dead. "Bakuda tried to kill me. Almost succeeded. They say I saved their lives, but they returned the favor." She hugged him again. "They're all fucked-up, maybe even bad people, but they're good to me. Please, treat them like my friends."

He gave Taylor a sad smile. This was much for him to take, so much hurt and fear and carnage all at once. However, despite everything else, he looked at this as a small blessing: after feeling helpless for so long, he could actually be the patriarch again, protecting his little girl. "Okay, Tails." He kissed his daughter's forehead and went over to the dresser, pulling out some pajamas. "Let's get you tucked in."

Taylor flushed in embarrassment and giggled a little, but didn't protest. If her father needed her to be his baby girl again, to briefly live in the moment when she was tiny and family was her whole world, she could oblige. At least for one night, the world and its problems could stay out there. He turned around while she changed, then pulled back the covers and tucked Taylor into bed. With a kiss on her bald pate, he switched off the light and exited.

Danny carefully shut Taylor's door, wanting his daughter to drift peacefully to sleep. He ambled down the hall and looked around the living room at the five – wait, no, four – teens there. Not for the first time, he thought about how fucked the world was. Children had to fight while adults cowered in their homes or shook their fists impotently at implacable threats. He was one of those adults, helpless to do anything meaningful in this...this war.

He stopped that train of thought. He couldn't let himself think that way. Something that he'd always tried to instill in Taylor – that Annette had taught him – was that every action, no matter how small, holds meaning. Danny might not be able to fight villains like Lung or drive back the Endbringers. He might not be able to cure world hunger or kill Kaiser. But right here, he could be Taylor's father. He could give her stability and safety. Whether parahuman powers were a gift, a curse, or just a freak accident of nature, Danny knew Taylor would use those powers to make the world a better place. He would be there for her, giving her the anchor she would need.

"Alright," he said as he stepped into the living room and pulled up a stool from the kitchen, "tell me the whole story. What happened?"

Seated with his back against the couch, Brian turned to look at Danny. "Taylor was asleep for a lot of today. Yesterday she had another of her, uh..."

"Barf-her-guts-out sessions?" a young female voice offered helpfully.

"...Sure," the skepticism was rolling off Brian's tongue, "let's go with that. Anyway, while she was out, Bakuda went apeshit. Bombs were going off everywhere and it looked like the whole goddamn city was gonna be leveled."

"Would've been badass if she didn't also want to kill us," Alec groaned from the couch.

"Quiet, you. Rest and try to get some sleep." Brian set some of his darkness around Alec's head. "Uh, where was I? So Rachel grabbed Taylor while we got organized, Lisa checked out what was happening, and we made a plan."

"Real simple plan, really." This time it was Lisa interjecting. "We'd hide in one of the places Bakuda had already hit and feel things out."

"Problem was," Brian continued seamlessly, "we didn't really know what Bakuda's endgame was. Lisa's a Thinker but that crazy bitch was so random things didn't really make sense. Taylor came up with a theory that made the most sense: whatever others reasons the ABB were bombing Brockton Bay, the main reason was probably to cause a distraction and bust out Lung." He shrugged. "Made sense to us, so Alec figured Lung would go from bombings to full-out war once he got back. Our original plan was to take out ABB footsoldiers, leave Lung with fewer people to start trouble with."

"I didn't realize until after the fact that, not only did Bakuda have bombs in her new recruits, she probably also had monitors hooked up to their vitals. When we brought down a group, she knew." Lisa frowned. "Damn Tinkers."

"Fucking huge explosion," Rachel spoke up. She was piled together with her dogs, the poor mangy things sleeping soundly around her. "Sent Skitter through a window, glass through Regent's side, and almost knocked me out. Skitter helped me get on top of Brutus and I might've made it out if Bakuda hadn't hit me with some sort of gas."

"A chloroform-based sedative bomb," Lisa supplied.

Alec bopped Brian's head and the black boy released his darkness. "She hung us up like something out of _Saw_. Came in gloating, beat the shit out of Brian then went to work on me. Taylor got loose, chopped off Bakuda's toes for some reason, and then beat her up. Lisa got free, picked Brian's locks, and then Brian took her down."

Lisa rolled her eyes. "Taylor got loose by having her bugs squish themselves to give her enough lubricant–" She ignored Alec's chuckling about lube, "to slip free. Bakuda controlled her bombs through processors in toe rings she made, so that's why Taylor chopped off her toes."

"After that," Brian said, "getting out was easy. When we announced Bakuda was unconscious and couldn't set off her bombs, the new recruits in the warehouse gunned down the veterans and called the PRT. With luck, they'll have the bombs out of their bodies and be back to their families within the week. We grabbed Rachel's dogs–"

"Fuckers shot them, but my dogs are tough."

"–and swung by my apartment to pick up my baby sister before coming here."

"Hey," the little girl waved to Danny as she sat beside Alec on the couch.

Danny narrowed his eyes at her. "Okay, who are you? Taylor didn't introduce you and I damn sure don't remember letting you in." He gripped the stool, ready to use it as a weapon. Maybe he couldn't do much in a world of capes, but he'd be damned if some saboteur hurt the last family he had.

"Whoa, whoa," Brian held his hands up in a placating gesture. "It's okay. Aisha's a parahuman too. She's still getting a hang on turning off her powers." He smiled. "You get better at remembering her the longer she keeps her powers off. First day, I actually forgot I had a sister."

Aisha snickered. "And I thought you were being a jackass and pulling a prank on me." She turned back to Mr. Hebert and smiled. "Lisa says I'm probably a mid-level Stranger. People don't notice me, and even forget me after the fact. I have to consciously turn it off, which is kind of a bitch."

"I could trust Aisha to hide someplace safe while the carnage was going on, but the moment we got the chance I had us swing over to rescue her. I'm not leaving my sister in a warzone."

Danny let go the stool, color returning to his knuckles. He rested his chin in his hands and sighed. "So what's next? For Brockton Bay, I mean."

Lisa laid her head on Judas' stomach, using the dog as a pillow. Rachel gave her a dirty look but didn't begrudge her the spot. "Well, if Lung decides he's still angry, he'll probably try to make another demonstration of the ABB's strength. With all the destruction already, Homeland Security and the National Guard will be properly mobilized in a couple days and the Protectorate will pick up the slack, or at least pretend to." She yawned, idly rubbing her wrists before realizing what she was doing and forcing herself to stop. "Biggest problem will be Empire Eighty-Eight. A bunch of Asians running rampant and massacring people? That's exactly the kind of situation a white supremacist loves. I fully expect Kaiser to make some sort of power play and argue that only the Nazis can keep people safe."

Danny grimaced. "Look, I'm sure you've expected to be asked this at some point, but why are you all villains? You seem like decent kids who've all had a run of bad luck, not bad guys out for themselves."

"Sometimes a run of bad luck is all it takes," Alec said with surprising solemnity. Lisa nodded in agreement.

"Alec, just go to sleep," Brian muttered. "Mr. Hebert, when you're a parahuman, you really only have two options: join the Protectorate and be part of the system, or join some villains."

"Third option is die," Aisha added helpfully.

"And when the system fucks you over, you're left with an easy choice: go to work with an organization that seems dedicated to making your life hell, or take your chances at acceptance and freedom outside the law," Brian concluded.

"Jesus," Danny breathed, "you kids are too young to be getting this dark and philosophical. I thought Taylor was unique because, well, she's really smart and has been through a lot."

"I won't deny that Taylor's probably smarter than most of us, barring Lisa, but there's no monopoly on life being shit. In fact, out of everybody here, Aisha and I are probably the most well-adjusted." The African-American boy sighed and looked down. "Look, this is getting really heavy for this late at night, and we're all exhausted. I probably have a concussion, Rachel's bruised and Lisa had to slice her wrists to get free. Can we table any other questions until tomorrow?"

Danny agreed and went to the hall closet, getting blankets for the kids. After making certain they were settled, he trudged to his own bedroom and burrowed under the covers. Danny Hebert had always thought that one of the major goals in life was to make things better for the next generation. After talking with the Undersiders, he could only conclude that the world had failed at that goal.


	12. Essence 03

**Essence 2.03**

I had earlier likened Brockton Bay to a warzone, in the aftermath of Bakuda's bombings. I realized that my assessment had been in error. In the days that followed, as the Undersiders hunkered down at my house, I saw what a warzone truly was.

On the one side was the government: the PRT, Protectorate and National Guard, with the Wards unofficially helping out. On the other was Empire Eighty-Eight, the largest and most powerful single organization in Brockton Bay. And in the middle were all the innocent people, trapped in the crossfire as the ABB continued its rampage. Streets were cordoned off, huge APCs and other vehicles rolled in, and soldiers commandeered destroyed buildings as staging centers and barracks. But they were intruders, strangers with their hands tied.

The National Guard didn't know the area; even natives didn't have the intimate understanding of Brockton Bay's underbelly that the gangs did. They were held back by rules of engagement and orders to avoid harming civilians. This forced them to only react rather than take proactive measures, keeping them at a continual disadvantage.

Worse still, E88 refused to attack, taking out National Guard troops only if provoked. Kaiser made a public statement that Empire Eighty-Eight was there to restore order and defeat the ABB. The Nazis had troops on the ground, wearing gang colors to identify them to the public while they hunted down the manic Asians. They acted swiftly and without mercy, unafraid to take actions that would get US soldiers court-martialed. The entire thing was like a huge PR stunt for Kaiser and company.

Coil's forces, the most militarized of the gangs, were taking no action besides holding their own territory. They allowed E88 and government troops to pass through, but did not tolerate combat within their borders or encroachment by other gangs. The Merchants seeped into the cracks like tar, stealing land from the ABB but being continually pushed back by Lung and Oni Lee, who now were inseparable. Lee would teleport himself and Lung away whenever the PRT showed up, sacrificing their grunts for their own sake. In fact, if the ABB didn't face death from Lung's wrath, they would probably have all fled already.

(BREAK)

After the first few days, I had encouraged the Undersiders to come out and mingle. With the city sectioned off, neighborhoods had become like little villages, pooling resources. The National Guard informed us that supply drops would be once per week, so we'd need an accurate head count.

At the moment, we were all sitting in the living room debating what to watch.

"WWE!" Alec was still stubbornly insisting on watching oiled-up neanderthals manhandle one another. He was promptly slapped in the face with a sock.

"Hell no," Rachel grumped. "Switch on Nick." Her head and sock-flinging arm were the only things visible beneath the pile of dogs atop her.

"No, BET," Aisha demanded, causing Brian to raise an indignant eyebrow. "What?" she smiled. "Somebody needs to play to stereotypes."

"Well it's not gonna be you." He tugged the end of one of her cornrows. "Danny, could you switch on the Discovery Channel?" Brian ignored Aisha's exaggerated gagging noises.

Lisa opened her mouth but I cut her off. "No, Lise, we've been watching the news too much lately."

Dad chuckled. "It's good to see you kids acting like, well, kids. Taylor, it's our TV, so what's your pick?"

"Nepotism! Picking your daughter over the injured party!"

"Shut up, Alec," the other four said almost in unison.

I smiled at my dad. "Discovery Channel sounds good to me." It did, of course, but even if I hadn't I would probably have said so. Dad was taller than Brian but the teen was broader and more muscular; aside from some clothes we'd borrowed from neighbors, he couldn't properly fit in other outfits, so he'd gone shirtless today. I was seated in front of the couch on the floor, explicitly so I didn't absently ogle him.

"Look," I said as my father changed channels, "I'm thinking we should start patrolling the area, maybe two of us at a time, at least until Alec's better. The PRT can't be everywhere–"

Lisa snickered. "Plus they're about as useful as the UN in situations like this."

"–and I'll be damned if I'm gonna let a bunch of Nazis, Asian gangbangers or druggie Merchants walk all over the innocent people of Brockton Bay."

"I hate Brockton Nazis," Alec paraphrased. We all chuckled, even Rachel. I doubted she got the reference but she'd been pretty mellow since we had opted to stay here.

Brian hummed to himself in thought. "Yes, that could work." We turned to look at him and he continued. "Look, Kaiser and the other Hitler Youth are using this as a PR opportunity, presenting themselves as the better alternative to the PRT. With Coil solely focused on holding territory, E88 are the only ones making headway to clean up the city." He grinned. "We already have the cred from taking down Bakuda; we can capitalize and clean things up, and undermine Kaiser at the same time. He needs all that power and all those parahumans to even attempt to keep peace, and we're doing it with just five people."

"Hey!"

"Well they don't know about you, Aisha," he placated.

"I was thinking that we should go out in teams that complement each other," I interjected. "For example, Grue and me, Regent and Bitch, Aisha–"

"Imp," she corrected me.

"...Huh?"

"Imp," Aisha repeated. "Everybody else gets a cool name; I should have one too. My big brother's a monster, so I'm an Imp!"

"Okay, Imp then. Imp and Tattletale would make an excellent scout team for spying on enemy groups."

"And why the hell do I get stuck with Regent?" Rachel protested.

"Hey fuck you! You're lucky to get stuck with me." Alec blew a raspberry at her.

"You're stuck with him because we heavy hitters need support, and your dogs can't see through Grue's darkness, while I can feel with my bugs without interference. Regent can make enemies trip, then the dogs can get 'em while they're down."

She nodded. "Okay, I guess that makes sense. He's still annoying, though."

"Thank you," Alec said with a smile.

Rachel's hand disappeared back into the pile of dogs, then flung her other sock at Alec's head.

"Fuck!" he sputtered as the sock hit him in the mouth. "Keep your foot sweat to yourself, Bitch!"

"Then shut your hole," she said definitively.

I just pinched the bridge of my nose. "Why did I ever agree to let you all stay here?" I looked over to my father, who was laughing his ass off. "And you're not helping!"

(BREAK)

Grue and I walked down the street, each wreathed in undulating black. With Grue, it was his darkness, while for me it was a section of my swarm. We had originally thought about sneaking around, but an overt show of power would make more of an impact. We headed east toward Blunt Street, where the intersection was choked with hedgehogs and razor wire. ABB forces had been pushing, and the National Guard was trying their best to push back. They certainly hadn't expected a pair of apparently very intimidating capes to come from the other side.

The soldiers on duty spun to face us and I clenched my fist under cover of my swarm. This was the moment of truth: if we'd judged this wrong, we'd probably be dead or arrested. I kept my mouth set in a hard line since I hadn't yet figured out how to speak audibly over the drone of my insects. It wouldn't do for a villain of my power level to sound like any other teenage girl.

Thankfully, Grue didn't have that problem. "Settle down, boys," he intoned, his voice deepened and distorted through his darkness. It spread through the vents in his helmet, revealing his chalk-white skull mask. "You're not wearing gang colors, so you're safe from us." We didn't stop walking, moving into the blockade. "Think of us as the native resistance."

"Besides," he said as he gave me a subtle nod, "if we wanted you dead, you'd know it."

With a thought, I pulled my swarm together out of the crevices, back alleys, rooftops and storm drains where I'd been hiding them. An ocean of black, skittering figures undulated over itself, flowing around the men before taking to the air and blocking out the sun.

We must have looked like something out of a nightmare, a demon wreathed in a black cloud alongside some sort of fragmented lamia, standing beneath a churning cloud of death. And, as far as we said, we were the good guys.

I dismissed my swarm, sending them to hide again. Message sent, now we just had to hope it was properly received. As for us, we went into no-man's land to hunt the gangs.

(BREAK)

"Skitter checking in."

"_Everything copacetic so far?"_

"Yeah, Tattletale. No resistance encountered as yet. Message delivered and we're not full of holes, so that's good. Call you again if anything comes up."

"_Gotcha. You two stay safe."_

I hung up and slipped my phone into my pack. "Okay, Grue, what's the game plan?"

"Spread your bugs to your maximum radius and scout for any gangs. If we find any, we intercept. If not, we loop back and head home." It was weird, hearing him refer to my house as home. I supposed that, for someone who might not have an apartment anymore, my place probably was the closest thing to a definite home.

As I sent my bugs scouting, I felt an uncomfortable silence fall upon us. Perpetually awkward girl that I was, I felt the need to make small talk. I got in closer so we wouldn't be overheard. "So, why is Aisha living with you? Do you not have parents?" Stupid, fucking stupid. Why did I phrase it that way?

"None that matter," he muttered. "Well, maybe that's unkind. My father tried, really he did, but he was a hard man. Not the kind that should raise a child. He was a fighter. Really, the only kind of bonding we got was when he was yelling at me for not hitting the heavy bag hard enough." He sighed and slowed down. "Dad got custody of me in the divorce; for whatever reason, despite the fact that she was an addict who'd probably _sell_ her daughter for another hit, the court decided that she deserved custody of Aisha." Grue kicked a rock as we walked. I was thankful that I was keeping watch, because he was getting too deep into memories. "Can we talk about something else, please?"

"Of course. And...I'm sorry for bringing that up. I'm, well, I'm bad with people. I get nervous and always say the wrong thing."

"I don't know about that," he replied. "You've been good company while we're staying at your place."

"O-oh, thanks." I was glad that my mask hid my blush.

I could feel people all around, most of them ragged refugees, people who had lost their homes to Bakuda's bombing runs. But there were others I could feel now, moving not necessarily in formation but with purpose. And armed. Flies crawled over the weapons, feeling their dimensions. Too large for submachine guns. Assault rifles, then. The ABB wouldn't have that kind of firepower, but E88 could smuggle it in.

I tapped Grue's shoulder. "E88, one o'clock, moving away. Should we intercept?"

He nodded.

(BREAK)

One never really expects real life to mirror movies. For example, I wouldn't expect the Nazis to be going around talking about nothing but ethnic cleansing and uttering a racial slur every other word. What I truly hadn't anticipated, though, was for them to be discussing discussing character deaths in a video game. It was disturbingly humanizing and, for a moment, I found my resolve shaken.

For once, I was grateful for the new vicious side of my personality. I was reminded of the fact that these men were indeed Nazis, and were working to undermine the government and institute a mini-reich. I gave the signal to strike.

This time we reversed the order of our last ambush. Grue sent his darkness surging in, blinding the group. Once that was done, I flooded the room with my swarm. Again, my goal wasn't to kill. While wasps stung the men's faces and arms, widows scurried up and down their bodies to wind silk around them. Their flailing caused the men to become entangled, and they collapsed in a pile. A little more silk to make sure they were restrained, and we were good to go.

As we left the building, I dialed the Brockton Bay PRT. "Please connect me to Director Piggot, Armsmaster, or Miss Militia. It's rather important. Yes, I'll hold." We continued walking.

After several long, awkward minutes, the connection clicked on. _"This is Armsmaster speaking. State your business."_

"Armsmaster, this is Skitter, partnered with the Undersiders. We've apprehended a team of Empire Eighty-Eight soldiers and restrained them in a building at the intersection of Third and Ivers. The Protectorate has an ally in us, at least until Empire Eighty-Eight is beaten back. We have no interest in seeing Brockton Bay fall to Nazis."

He was silent for too many seconds. _"...Normally I'd tell you to go fuck yourself. But this situation is dire. So long as you don't attack us, we'll return the favor."_

"Then we're agreed." I hung up and looked over to Grue. "That was a lot easier than I'd expected. I'll admit, this makes me nervous. Either we're more fucked than I realized, or this is yet another attempt to not completely alienate me."

"How would they know it was you?"

"Bug name, working with the Undersiders, when Armsmaster is reasonably certain you helped me take down Lung. It's not that difficult to figure out, especially if he also had Piggot or Miss Militia in the room."

Grue shrugged. "Fair point. So why are we leaving, rather than staying to make our point?"

"Because I still don't trust the PRT. I wouldn't put it past them to arrest us and claim we established the truce just to try ambushing them."

He chuckled. "And here I thought you were the first girl I met who wasn't heinously bitter."

"So sorry to disappoint," I smirked back.

(BREAK)

We returned past the barricade, using Grue's darkness and my swarm to conceal our escape. Brian and I split up, got changed, and met back at my house. When I opened the door, Lisa dragged us inside.

"Perfect timing," she declared. "Sit down and watch!" She shoved Brian onto the floor in front of the TV and toppled me over to fall in his lap. Lisa scurried back around to sit beside Alec on the couch; had Alec even moved an inch in the time we'd been gone?

On the screen was the "PR-friendly" logo of Empire Eighty-Eight: an enormous E, with two 8s looping through the middle arm of the letter, all in distinctly gothic-German font. I figured the voice speaking over the icon had to be Kaiser, though I'd never heard his voice before. "...still the threat is not met with the appropriate response. The PRT refuses to take the action necessary to deal with even so pitiable a force as the ABB due to some misguided righteousness, a belief that by not exterminating these vermin they are somehow superior, that the 'moral high ground' makes up for the lives lost by their inaction!"

"And this is why Kaiser's such a big threat," Lisa said quietly. "He preys on people's fears, makes them believe his arguments. Hell, he even makes good arguments. It's the results that make normal people regret following him."

"Empire Eighty-Eight is willing to take the steps necessary. We are not worried about bad press. We do not bend to government sanction. We will excise the cancer from Brockton Bay: gangs, drug addicts, other such _parasites_ ruining our chance at a peaceful society. Empire Eighty-Eight _will_ undertake this action, regardless of what public opinion chooses to say of us. We will be this city's salvation."

An empty soda bottle hit the TV. "Change the channel already!"


	13. Interlude: Meanwhile

**A/N:** So I posted QotS on SpaceBattles and it seems to be getting good feedback. threads/queen-of-the-swarm-worm.323254/

Feel free to go and see!

**Interlude 2.y**

"You're kidding me."

Maxwell Anders sat on his plush red suede couch, looking up at his lieutenant in confusion. Hookwolf did his best to vet any information he passed up, however, so Max didn't automatically disbelieve what he was hearing. A quick glance to either side told him that the twins, Jessica and Quinn, were just as incredulous. He ran a hand through his dark hair and took a breath.

"Alright, Wolf, let me run this back so we can make sure I didn't have a temporary stroke: You're telling me that five minors, whose previous biggest score was robbing a civvy casino, are now _successfully beating back our entire organization_." Max's words grew harsher as he spoke, but it was hardly surprising. Empire Eighty-Eight was, truthfully, the most powerful single organization in Brockton Bay. Even the local Protectorate, supplemented by the PRT and Wards, couldn't match them pound-for-pound. And yet, two weeks after the war had begun, they – and every other criminal group – were being systematically forced out of the docks and surrounding areas by so pitiful a group as the Undersiders?

"That's about the long and short of it, yes," Hookwolf rumbled. "Most times they use guerrilla tactics to ambush and restrain our footsoldiers, but when we send our own capes after them they fight us to a stalemate and escape."

Kaiser rubbed his temples, letting out a groan of frustration. "And what's worse, they're also cleaning up the city so we can't go after them without public opinion turning on us. We smack them down and we're seen as just another gang capitalizing on the chaos: we won't be able to spin attacking other do-gooders." He looked up at Hookwolf, who was nodding along with his words. Wolf may have been a savage, but he was a savage who knew strategy. He'd undoubtedly figured Max would come to that conclusion.

"So, sir, what do we do about them?"

Max took a moment to think, eyes closed and lips pursed. Then he chuckled. "For now? Nothing. We leave the docks to them, but we push back if they try to take our territory. We accept their 'help' in cleaning up the city."

Quinn stretched, a smirk on her perfect lips while rivers of gold cascaded down her shoulder. "And then we find a reason to pin blame on them."

Jessica finished her twin's thought. "And we finish them off, with the goodwill of the Bay behind us."

Maxwell lounged back, slipping an arm around each beauty's waist. "Exactly. This is more than a ground campaign, Wolf. It's Hearts & Minds. We've worked this long to purify this city; we can wait another few weeks or even months while we continue to ingratiate ourselves to the public." He gave a kiss to each of his girls. "Now, if you'll all excuse me, I have another appointment coming soon."

Hookwolf nodded, clicking his heels together before walking off. The twins, like the perfect blend of lioness and tiger, unfolded themselves from the couch and strode off behind Wolf.

Max stood, stretched and then ambled over to the window to open it. By the time he'd gotten back to the couch, the blinding white glow was already in sight.

Purity landed and deactivated her powers. Kayden glared at Max; she might have a child with him, but that didn't mean she had to like him. "I told you not to contact me anymore," she growled as best she could. Kayden did not strike a particularly charismatic or intimidating figure when she was not Purity. Her small frame and mousey looks did her no favors. "And yet what do I find at the condo? A note. And not even from Max, but from Kaiser. You asked me to come out of respect for the old days, so you've got five minutes."

Max smiled. She might not look the part of the reich's potential queen, but that fiery passion of hers always entranced him. "You can't pretend you haven't noticed what we're doing, Kayden. We're finally making headway at cleaning up the city."

"Yes, by pushing your agenda of genocide," Kayden bit her words.

"Have you really convinced yourself I'm so intolerant? Or is it just so you have a dichotomy to reference, a yang to your yin? You have to paint me as the love child of Hitler and Stalin in order to make your own crimes seem minor in comparison, so you can tell yourself you're a good person." Seeing his ex-wife bristle, he continued. "But you are a good person, just not by the infantile, self-defeating perceptions of society. You're continuing our work in your own way, trying to help others. You're just not as forceful or militarized as we are." Max locked eyes with her. "But tell me, Kayden: in your heart of hearts, do you really feel the same when you see a white person committing a crime as you do when you see a black, or an oriental, or a spic?"

Seeing Kayden's resolve cracking, Max suppressed a smirk and pressed his advantage. "I'm not pushing genocide. I know that doesn't work, and besides, if we're going to lead the world then we can't exterminate the majority. Just as the Third recruited the Japs, we can command others if they're willing to follow. But they need to know their place." He stood and walked to the window. "When you fly over the city, do you catch glimpses of them? The addicts, the downtrodden, the homeless who are further preyed on by the savages that stalk the back alleys? Their enablers and tormentors, often one and the same, are given free rein in a misguided attempt to do what's best for the public."

Kayden still hadn't replied. Max's words were seeping into her and, god damn it all, but she couldn't help but start to agree.

"The public does not need anarchic autonomy as we attempted to give them. They need _structure_. Look at the Mideast. When you take away their dictators, they go into a frenzy, killing and raping and fucking eating each other. We have insane asylums because madmen cannot be allowed to go free. But when an entire civilization is insane, they can't just be committed. But they can be controlled and even pushed to good work. But they need a strong hand, need leadership that is unafraid to treat rebellion harshly. That's what we need here. The suffering needs to end."

Kayden swallowed and stepped forward.

(BREAK)

"Emily."

"Thomas."

The old comrades-in-arms nodded to one another as they passed in the halls of the PRT building. Emily Piggot was on her way for another week's briefing with Chief Director Costa-Brown. Things were actually getting better, she had to admit. Since the Undersiders had started actively resisting incursion, E88's war machine had stalled. The Nazis were back to hunting the ABB rather than taking more territory, while the Undersiders slowly expanded their own controlled land.

Piggot sat down in her customized chair, adjusted to hold her bulk. She switched on the communications screen and waited while the PRT logo rotated. After nearly a minute, the scarred face of Rebecca Costa-Brown appeared.

"Chief Director."

"Director Piggot. How goes the war?"

Emily sighed. Straight to the point yet still condescending. Bitch. "Honestly, Chief Director, it's not as bad as it could have been. Empire Eighty-Eight has been stalled and may lose face in light of its defeat at the docks."

"Yes," Costa-Brown said, looking at a folder for effect, "the Undersiders, if this information is correct. They have a new member?"

"Correct. Designated Skitter, this new cape seems to be a ringer, a decent-level Master. From what we can gather, she insists that she is not a full member, and is instead only involved to hunt other villains."

"Yes, Taylor Hebert, if my information is correct. And you let a parahuman get away, who later went on to defeat Lung single-handed." She didn't give Piggot a chance to respond. "And this has to do with Shadow Stalker. Oh yes, Director, I have not overlooked this failing of yours. Were it not for the fact that Brockton Bay is in the middle of a war, you would already be 'reassigned'. As for now, you get a reprieve. Clean up this mess and your reassignment may be deferred indefinitely."

"We are also working on a PR campaign to discredit Empire Eighty-Eight. At the moment, Kaiser's charisma is making the everyman see the Nazis as the safest option. We're going to remind people why Nazis are bad, as sad as that sentence is."

Costa-Brown's face showed no hint of emotion, as usual. "Have Rennick submit his support for the PRT and National Guard's plan of action." And with that, she cut the transmission.

Emily took a moment to brace herself before lifting her bulk from the chair. She never enjoyed dealing with the Chief Director; something about the woman rubbed her the wrong way. Costa-Brown was also a huge fan of assigning blame, punishing those lower on the totem pole while she sat in her ivory tower and sucked up federal dollars.

Brockton Bay needed more support. It was the battlefront for the entire country, and the Nazis were winning. If Brockton fell, there was a great chance that Kaiser's influence could expand to the rest of the United States. In a world ravaged by the likes of the Endbringers and the 9, too many people would be willing to sacrifice freedom and even their own humanity in the name of safety. Worse, Piggot couldn't blame them for it.

She spied just the person she needed and veered off her previous course. "Militia," Piggot called.

The olive-skinned heroine turned. "Director. What can I do for you?"

Piggot drew closer. "I've been especially stressed today, Miss Militia. I'll probably need another hour of dialysis to take care of it. I can only wish we had more capes to put on the street."

Miss Militia nodded, an eyebrow raised. "True, if only more parahumans were willing to work with us. Should we send out an olive branch to the Undersiders, or Faultline's crew?"

Emily Piggot sighed theatrically. "Unfortunately, PRT protocols prohibit us from officially contacting any villainous or rogue groups outside of the unwritten citywide truces, and we are _certainly_ prohibited from hiring mercenary teams or offering gifts to villain teams." She looked at Miss Militia, hoping the female hero had gotten the message. "Neither can I advocate or even hypothetically discuss a policy counter to the Youth Guard's official guidelines wherein the Wards would be assigned to maintain safer districts so that the Protectorate can take the fight to the gangs."

"Yes," Miss Militia nodded, "it's too bad about that."

(BREAK)

The Levons Juvenile Detention Center was not normally equipped for housing parahumans. For the most part, it was simply juvie hall. But in the aftermath of Empire Eighty-Eight's war, it housed one parahuman delinquent who had previously been scheduled for transfer.

Sophia Hess sat on the ragged couch, idly rapping one of her bracers against the armrest. Her bracers also served as her cuffs when locked together, and had a powerful electric current coursing through each bracer.

Seated beside her was an unfortunate-looking, bulky girl named Lara. Lara was a next-generation follower of Lustrum, in spirit if not in knowledge. The girl was imprisoned for brutally beating several young men, and that sadism was something the girls could bond over.

Lara smirked at Sophia, eyes drifting to the athlete's bracers. Sophia nodded back.

Tomorrow.


	14. Essence 04

**Essence 2.04**

Two weeks.

We'd been fighting against Empire Eighty-Eight and the ABB for two weeks, patrolling every day and steadily expanding our territory. The Undersiders were now the warlords of the docks and their surrounding suburbs, holding the land with an iron fist.

Well, at least for the villains. Since we were running a counter campaign against E88, we needed to present ourselves as the better alternative. Tattletale came up with the idea: in addition to keeping the area safe, we accepted protection money. But we didn't demand or threaten. Rather, we told the people the simple truth: money meant we could acquire more resources and therefore better defend our territory. Amazingly, in the eight or so days since we'd put out that little memo, thousands of dollars had poured in, along with a fount of goodwill.

I was of two minds about this: on the one hand, we were protecting the people and getting rewarded for it. We were, for all intents and purposes, heroes. On the other hand, I could easily see the voluntary protection money becoming tithe and tribute, and our status as warlords being officially cemented. We were teenagers, capricious and fickle. One bad day could turn us from protectors to oppressors. Holding the hearts of the people, controlling the territory, it was an incredibly empowering feeling. It was easy to see how even well-intentioned groups could turn to tyranny.

Was that what had happened to the PRT? Had that kind of unchecked power led to corruption, bloated certainty in their moral righteousness preventing them from seeing what festered beneath? I told myself I'd eventually find out. Arcadia was inextricably linked to the Protectorate, so once the citywide lockdown was lifted I'd get to see the Wards – if I could identify them – behaving like normal people. Maybe an outsider's voice could break through to the truly good people in the Protectorate. Sometimes it only took one more voice to shatter the illusions.

For the moment, however, everyone needed to live in the present. Planning for the future wouldn't matter if we failed. According to Lisa, the Protectorate wasn't sending reinforcements because they were doing their best at a media blackout. Until things settled down, we were on our own. Of course, that was typical. The bigwigs wouldn't risk losing face. So what if several thousand people died while they sat on their asses? The Protectorate's star would remain squeaky-clean and the war would be remembered as just something else shitty that went on in Brockton Bay.

I stretched my consciousness further into my bugs, finding my mind on an unpleasant spiral. My earbugs and eyebugs, paired up for the best chance of noticing trouble, flew in concentric circles to watch for strangers or looters. At the eye of the metaphorical storm was this week's supply drop. Brian, Rachel and my dad hauled their own box of rations and assorted sundries while I, as Skitter, stood guard. Brian had designated me as the guard for the supply drops because my power gave us the best chance of intercepting any gang presence.

Tattletale walked up to stand beside me, folding her arms and leaning to one side to almost perfectly mirror my stance. It was hard not to grin. She always found a way to inject a little fun into things. "Any trouble, Skitter?"

I shook my head. By now I'd gotten used to not having thick, flowing hair follow my head's motions. Sometimes I found myself grievously missing it, but overall I'd come to accept my baldness. "All quiet. I think we've cleared enough territory that any looters are afraid to push this deep." I turned to look at her. "So what's the news around the city?"

She smirked. "Pretty good, overall. I'd like to think that the PRT are learning from our example, but regardless, it seems that the Wards aren't sticking to their token patrol routes." Somehow she could just tell that I'd raised an eyebrow, her vulpine grin stretching larger. "They're also pointedly _not_ being punished for their deviation. The Wards are patrolling the more peaceful areas of the Bay, putting down small crime and freeing the Protectorate to take more decisive action."

Tattletale leaned on me, almost causing me to topple over. Yeah, I had a good four inches on her but I was still skinny, dammit! And I also wasn't a traffic pylon! "I think they're poking the bear with E88, sweeping in and arresting any downed grunts to the point that they let other gangs leave unaccosted. They want Kaiser to make the first move, to directly attack them, so they can lay blame squarely on the Nazis and call in the Triumvirate."

"You're sure about that?"

"Pretty sure, yeah. We're making E88 look like fools and they're starting to run out of unpowered footsoldiers. Something's gotta give, and I doubt they'll start recruiting from their fronts and legit businesses to make up the difference. Either they'll come after us, in which case we have the backing of our territory and can swing it into a PR win for us and the Protectorate, or they'll try hitting the PRT directly. In which case I say let 'em fight it out and we can intervene if it looks like the Nazis have the upper hand." Tattletale started adjusting my arm to make me more comfortable for leaning on, at which point I gave her a little shove.

"Any other cape activity?" I tried to maintain the facade of strength in front of the public, hoping that they hadn't seen their terrifying protector horsing around with her friend.

Tattletale nodded with a grin. "I've kept an ear to the ground and there are a few very interesting developments. First off, there's a cape calling herself Parian who's basically taken over a mall, Dawn of the Dead style. She's playing guard dog for a group of refugees but has made it clear she wants no part in the war. They leave her alone, she does the same. Thus far, she's been holding off any incursions."

"One cape? She must be pretty powerful," I commented.

"Seems so. She's an established Rogue with some sort of Master ability that lets her create and control giant, well, let's call them cloth balloon animals. Teddies with razor-sharp claws, all that jazz. Either way, she's obviously more concerned about the people than anything else. So you and she might get along." Tattletale took a short breath and brushed some of her hair from where it had stuck to her neck. "Also, Faultline and her crew are on the radar again. Considering they'd been hunkered down in the Palanquin, my guess is they got a contract." The blonde leaned closer, her impish little grin almost painful to look at. This was her 'I know something you don't know' face. "The biggest development, though, is the Travelers."

I blinked. "The Travelers. Why the fuck would they come here at this time? Isn't their leader black?"

"Part-black, at least," she confirmed. "But everything I'm getting is that they've _been here_. For a while. My best guess is that they showed up for some reason just before Bakuda went insane, then were forced to hunker down. For whatever reason, they've gotten more active to the point they can be identified among all the other insanity."

"All of this new activity? Something's definitely going on."

"Were I a fortune teller, I'd be going on about foreseeing an end to this war. As it stands, I can only say that I expect things to come to a head and, hopefully, settle down after that."

I looked away from her, watching with a small smile as the last crate was carted off. "We can only hope."

"One more thing. Well, technically it's the reason I came out here, but I didn't want to distract you..."

I swung my head back to her. "Really?"

Tattletale just shrugged, not apologetic in the slightest. "Coil's calling a meeting of the remaining presence in the Bay; that is, those who haven't officially declared a side. You, Grue and I are gonna be there tomorrow."

I just sighed. "Seriously? You drop this on me now?"

She just laughed and looped an arm around my shoulders. "Gotta keep you on your toes somehow, Bug-Eyes."

(BREAK)

Somer's Rock was a pub only in the most polite use of the word. It was a run-down hole, dingy and depressing inside and out. Even the staff were depressing, a ragged-looking waitress in her twenties and identical twin brothers behind the bar who were pointedly not looking at us. Though the place had been cleared of its regular clientele, the scent of booze and cigarette smoke still hung heavy as their calling card.

Grue, Tattletale and I had gotten there early, just as the normal patrons were leaving, so we could scope out the place and observe everyone walking in. We were soon approached by the waitress, who stared wordlessly at us and set down a pad of paper on the table.

"Excuse me," I said, "do you–"

Tattletale interrupted me. "Skitter, she's deaf. Just read through the menu and write what you want on the pad."

I had to consciously force myself not to shrink down in embarrassment. Yet again I was thankful that my mask hid my blush. I some Surge knockoff citrus soda, then leaned back into the booth. "So who do you think will be coming?"

"Coil, obviously," Grue replied. "The Travelers too, if Tattletale's intel is right."

"Which it always is," she added.

"I'd also guess Faultline, particularly if Coil's the one who bought her services." He looked over at the blonde, who had stiffened a little. "Christ, Tats, I don't like that she managed to poach on us, but can you try not to shank her if she shows up?"

"Sorry," Tattletale grumped, sounding not at all sorry. "She just still rubs me the wrong way."

"Shut up," I said under my breath, hopefully loud enough for them to hear. The others were arriving.

The first was Coil, as I'd figured. The man was...creepy. Dressed in a black bodysuit and helmet distinguished only by an alabaster cobra that splayed its hood across the top of his helm and wound its way down his body, the man was taller than my father and rail-thin. I found myself wondering why he went with the snake theme rather than a skeleton or scarecrow. Coil arrived unaccompanied and unequipped except for his sidearm. That was either a clear demonstration of power, or a display of overconfidence. From what Lisa had told me about him, I suspected it was the former. He sat down at the largest round table and casually beckoned the waitress over. I figured he had to have a lot of experience in leadership – and in being a _decent_ leader – because he managed to look like he owned the place without his body language coming off as arrogant or abrasive. Coil nodded our way and Grue nodded back.

My drink came and I looked to Grue, who gave me a subtle nod. I tried not to look too childish sipping my soda through a straw, but my mask's mandibles kept me from drinking straight from the glass.

Next came the Travelers, in full force. Tattletale named them as they entered. Trickster was in the lead, his costume something of a hybrid between Baron Samedi and Dr. Facilier from that Disney movie. Behind him was Sundancer, a good-looking woman in a black bodysuit decorated with red suns. Next was Ballistic, in bulky armor also with the red/black color scheme. Apparently that was their version of a uniform. The fourth and final member showed me why that kind of uniform was necessary.

A massive, squat creature resembling some unholy hybrid of gorilla and squid managed to shuffle its bulk through the door and sat down beside the booth they'd selected. Genesis was, apparently, some sort of Changer who could mutate between different monstrous forms at will.

Next, which Tattletale and I both stopped to blink at (Grue probably did too, but you couldn't tell beneath the mask), came the Merchants. Ugly. Trashy. Scum. The lowest of the low, the Merchants were simultaneously drug dealers and walking anti-drug PSAs. They were all disgusting but the leaders seemed to take trashiness into an art form.

Skidmark was in front, in a gray flasher coat and a mask that covered the upper half of his face. The lower half was dark-skinned, with a badly trimmed beard and rotten teeth. People talk about rotten teeth, make references to it with bad breath, but actual rotting teeth are a horrific sight. Slimy and fetid, and framed with horrifically chapped lips. And what's worse, Squealer was supposedly his girlfriend. She willingly kissed that abominable pit.

Mush and Squealer were behind him, Mush stooped over and garbed like a diseased hobo, while Squealer was the worst combination of white trash fashion and ghetto chic.

Finally Faultline arrived, accompanied by Newter and Spitfire. Each group leader claimed a seat, though everyone eyed Skidmark. Coil was the first to speak. "Skidmark, I extended this invitation to you solely on the basis that more hand make for lighter work. If you make me regret that course of action, you will not live to make amends."

"Fuck your mama after I'm done plowin' her," Skidmark spat back. "We're here because you need us, because the Merchants are powerful, especially now."

"Bullshit," Grue interjected, his darkness distorting his voice. "You were invited because you _might_ prove useful. We have more than enough power already, and the Merchants are just getting by sneaking around behind Lung's back."

Skidmark leapt out of his chair and looked ready to lunge across the table. Grue just stared him down. "You sure you want to start something? The Undersiders took down Bakuda and her entire platoon. Skitter, by herself, beat Lung into the ground." His voice was even, his darkness letting the calm confidence show through. Skidmark's eye twitched before he sat back down.

"Leaky, worm-riddled asshole..."

"On that note," Faultline spoke up with false pleasantness, "our services have already been engaged. But, since the goal is to stop this war, we're happy to work with the rest of you toward that goal."

Coil nodded to her. "We're glad to hear that, Faultline. Your team will be a significant help." He looked around the table, his hidden gaze coming to rest on Trickster. "I will admit, I'm surprised the Travelers haven't simply left Brockton Bay. Surely there are better places to go."

Trickster snorted a little. "Of course there are, but we can't simply leave with the lockdown in effect. We'd be picked up almost instantly and, while we could fight our way free, we don't want to reduce the PRT's strength. We might be villains, but we're not _Nazis_." He practically spat out the word like it was a particularly unpalatable bit of gristle.

"Then we can count on the Travelers' assistance?"

Trickster smirked. "You shouldn't need to ask if I'm up for fucking over some skinheads. The fact that it benefits us all means my team's all on board too."

Coil cracked each of the knuckles on his right hand. "Then let's get down to business. The only reason that Kaiser was able to make this push is because of the ABB. So long as Lung continues his rampage, Empire Eighty-Eight will be able to leverage it into power, both local and political. So," he leaned forward, "I propose we hit the ABB first. This is as much a PR campaign as it is an ethnic cleansing; if we get rid of Kaiser's current raison d'etre, we force him to reveal E88 as the group of maniacs it truly is. When public support is clearly on our side, the powers that be will be more forgiving of a Nazi-extermination campaign."

"You think it will come to extermination?" Grue asked. "That the Protectorate will _let_ it come to that?"

Coil leaned back. "Kaiser may be a threat to Brockton Bay, but his ideology threatens the entire country. Considering the stakes of this war, I suspect that they will be willing to turn a blind eye to E88's destruction."

"We don't do murder," Faultline spoke up, "even in these circumstances. We can help apprehend, however, and once they're down and we're gone, our conscience is clear."

"We're on the same page, then," Grue nodded to her. "We don't like to kill either."

Coil's body language shifted almost imperceptibly, but I suspected that he was a little frustrated. "Very well. I'll be in touch with you all. Keep safe. If we lose any of you, our chances of this war coming to a satisfactory conclusion."

We all got up and filtered out. Faultline gave Tattletale a dirty look as we left. The blonde leaned closer to me. "Coil knows a lot more than he's letting on. There's something else going on here, more than just taking down Kaiser or even taking control of the city."

For some reason, I was even more tense now than I had been when this war started.

(BREAK)

We returned to an odd sight: Bitch's dogs were surrounding someone seated on a fire hydrant. As we drew closer, I could see that it was Miss Militia. Despite being surrounded by monstrous living tanks, she still radiated confidence.

Miss Militia stood, as calm as if she were in the middle of the PRT building. "Ah, Skitter, just who I wanted to see."

"So I'm not fucking important enough?" Bitch sneered at her. "Asshole."

I could tell Miss Militia was smirking at Bitch behind her scarf. She stepped forward, slow and calm, and passed by the dogs. Bitch didn't order them to follow. "Do you have a place where we can talk in private?"

I nodded. By this point the Undersiders and I had come to understand one another well enough to plan around one another. Grue threw out a cloud of darkness, occluding us from view.

Tattletale looked at me. "You sure this is alright?"

"She already has my file. It's not like this is any big secret for her." We continued on to my garage. Once we were inside, Grue let his darkness fade. I turned to Miss Militia. "So why are you here?"

"I never was," she replied, smiling beneath her scarf. "The Protectorate refuses to send additional reinforcements, and we are forbidden from enlisting the aid of Rogue or villain groups." She leaned against the wall, next to the upright toolbox. "However," she reached into her pocket, "if some earpiece communicators were to go missing, our comms department might not recognize the names of a few young villains and might let them in on our plans for ending the war. And," she set six communicators on the worktable, "if some upstanding citizens were to return the communicators afterward, we'd have no reason to press charges or ask questions."

I couldn't help but smile. Finally, someone was doing something. "Was Arcadia your idea too?" My smile only widened at her slight nod. "Thank you, Miss Militia. I won't forget this."

"You mean we can finally kick some ass _without_ the PRT trying to crawl up our own?" Regent grinned. "Sweet!"

"Sounds like fun." Even Miss Militia flinched when Imp made herself known. She didn't have a proper outfit thus far, but she'd put dark lenses into the eyes of an old devil mask from a Halloween years ago.

"Imp..." Grue sighed. "Could you try and keep from surprising the highly trained cape whose power is _guns_?"

Miss Militia surreptitiously holstered the uzi she'd manifested. "We've gotten scattered reports that the Undersiders have a sixth member. It seems that they were right." She stepped away from the wall and the communicators she'd left. "If I could ask for an escort back out, the same way?"

Grue nodded and walked her out.

(BREAK)

The seven of us, dad included, sat around the living room coffee table. The six communicators lay there.

"So what does this mean?" dad asked.

Lisa drew in a breath. "It means that the local Protectorate is bending the rules. It means that, even with the Triumvirate refusing to intervene, we have a chance."

"It means," I interjected, "that I may have been wrong about them.


	15. Essence 05

**Essence 2.05**

Beep. Beep. Beep.

My eyes fluttered open. Briefly, I thought I was back in the hospital. But the beeping, while rhythmic, wasn't quite the same. I looked over and saw my earpiece on my nightstand, flashing. Some sort of LED inside the piece, glowing out of the meshwork?

I leaned over and grabbed the communicator, popping it into my ear. Somehow it activated instantly. _Tchh_. "Skitter," I rasped, my voice distorted by fatigue and cottonmouth.

"_Whoa, it really is you."_ Who the hell was calling me at... I looked at the clock. 2:37 AM? _"Honestly, I thought they might've been jerking me around. Sorry; this is Faultline."_ I just blinked. How had Faultline gotten this frequency? Did she have a communicator of her own? Had the PRT broken the rules even further and actually hired mercenaries?

"_Faultline? What the fuck?"_ That was Grue's voice, wasn't it? _"How did you get this frequency? And Tattletale, if you're listening, don't you dare speak up. I know you and Faultline hate each other, but we don't need a feud."_

I yawned, loudly on purpose so Faultline would know I was tired and cranky. Put her on the defensive, etiquette-wise. "Better than how is why. As in, why are you calling us? And, why are you calling us at _two thirty-goddamn-seven in the morning?_"

"_Settle down, Skitter. We don't want her dead yet,"_ Grue admonished. Of course, he picked those words for the intimidation factor.

"_Honestly, I wasn't sure what time it was. So, sorry. We just finished a job dealing with E88. Managed to take down Night and Fog. For the most part we – that is, you and us – will be going after the Nazis. Keeps the PR conflict to a minimum. But apparently the Protectorate's gonna be hitting the ABB's last big stronghold tomorrow. That is, tomorrow as in the next twenty-four hour cycle, not tomorrow as in once the sun's up."_ I think she could feel my incredulous stare through the aether. _"Look, I'm still hopped-up on adrenaline and I probably have a concussion. Point is, they want the Undersiders with them since Skitter brought down Lung last time."_

I licked my lips, throat suddenly dry. The Protectorate would have to see the full extent of my power if they expected me to fight Lung. Whatever goodwill they were extending my way was likely to evaporate the moment they figured out I could create living things.

I heard my door opening and saw Lisa standing there in her little striped pajama pants and oversized shirt. She sat down and took my hand, clearly understanding what had me nervous. "That'll be fine," she said over her own earpiece. "Let the PRT know we'll be ready, but for now we need some sleep. If we're going after their last bastion, Lung won't give it up easily."

"_Thanks for the heads-up, Faultline,"_ Grue picked up after Lisa. _"We look forward to working alongside you in the future."_

I took that as my cue to hang up, setting my earpiece back on the nightstand. Lisa did the same, wrapping hers in a tissue so we could tell the difference. I wasn't sure if it mattered, but ownership was still important. Lisa cuddled in beside me, and for a moment I was worried she'd pull an Emma and try to make a move. Instead she rolled over, so we were back-to-back, and spoke softly. "You're scared what the Protectorate will do. They don't know your full power yet."

"I think I have every right to be." My voice was thick. Exhaustion had combined with nervousness and my eyes were blurring with tears. I gripped the bedsheets tighter.

Lisa rolled over again and placed a comforting kiss to the back of my head. "You're a good person, Taylor. If they can't see that and try to judge you solely on what your power _might_ do, we'll protect you." She gave me a hug and then crawled off my bed. "Try to get some sleep. We can discuss plans in the morning."

(BREAK)

What little sleep I did get was broken up as I tossed and turned: an hour here, a half-hour there, all filled with nightmares. Some were just abstract fears I couldn't remember once I woke, while others were seemingly prophetic visions of being hunted by the Protectorate, my personal hero Alexandria leading the charge.

I had begged off breakfast on account of my stomach not feeling well. It was true, but I was also just plain too nervous to get out of bed. Leaving my room would be equivalent to facing the world, and I was too afraid to do that.

Dad came in and sat beside me, having gotten everything set up for the rest of the Undersiders. "Hey kiddo," he smiled as he reached over to rub my head, "I saved you an omelette, just how you like it. How're you feeling?"

I let out a stuttering sigh. "Terrible. I'm stuck between being petrified and hating myself for being scared." I turned my head to look at him. "There's a chance – maybe even a good chance – that after tomorrow the Protectorate will be hunting me..." I let the sentence hang.

"I know," he replied. "Lisa filled us in while I made breakfast." He laid down beside me and hugged me tight. "Wanna know what I think? If they do, screw 'em." He gave me a little squeeze and I couldn't help smiling. "If they want to hurt my baby girl, then fuck them. Fuck the Protectorate and fuck Brockton Bay. We'll fake our deaths and move to Germany or something. But," he took a moment's pause, "I'm still holding out hope. The Protectorate here is already bending the rules, doing what's morally right and not what their laws say is right. If they're good people, and I'm hoping they are, they'll keep your power under their hats and the rest of the Protectorate will be none the wiser. And if not," he patted my pate, "you can take 'em."

I rolled over and returned the hug, clinging tightly to him. "Thanks, dad." Nothing more really needed to be said.

He held me for a few minutes longer before slipping out of my grip. "I need to go make sure Alec and Aisha aren't having a meat-throwing contest or some other stupidity. I know you need time alone with your thoughts, but please don't shut yourself away. We're all here for you." He kissed me on the cheek and shut the door behind him.

After he left, I sat in silence for a while. It could have been minutes or hours spent staring at a blank spot on the wall while my mind whirled. I could allow myself to hope. I _deserved_ that much. After everything I'd suffered, the universe fucking owed me, and I was going to find some way to collect. For now, though, I needed to focus on the immediate: not the what-if of the Protectorate starting a witch hunt, but the will-happen of Lung trying to murder me.

He wouldn't underestimate me after last time, considering the damage I'd done to him. I wouldn't have time to breathe or to heave up more bugs, and therein lay the problem. My grenade bugs were fragile, needed to be in order to properly explode when they impacted something. Of course, that also meant that they were a bitch to transport. I could try airlifting them with horseflies or string silk between dragonflies like two swallows carrying a coconut but even then the issue of bug biology came in. Bugs were natural creatures. They got tired. And I couldn't very well have an armada of dragonfly-bombers hovering in the air without rest, but neither could I risk them landing and the grenade bugs (seriously, I needed somebody's help in naming these things) bursting from collateral damage.

Maybe I could have them land on a nearby roof, far enough away that there was a good enough chance the bugs wouldn't explode, and then only call them up once I sighted Lung. Even with all that, though, there was still the chance of friendly fire or other collateral damage. The grenade bugs weren't exactly shaped charges, after all; most of their goo ended up on whatever they hit, sure, but there was still spray. Bitch's dogs were the best choice, but even then I was seriously worried. The grenade bugs melted through Lung's scales so what if they did too much damage to the dogs for them to properly heal? Rachel wouldn't forgive me nor would I forgive myself. No, I needed something bigger and scarier, some sort of bug that could distract and serve as cannon fodder. Problem was, Lung's fire caused my bugs to explode when they got close. Obviously that wasn't an issue with the bomb-bugs (bob-ogs, kind of like in Mario? No, that sounded like something Über would come up with), but even the toughest bugs I could spit out wouldn't last, so they wouldn't serve as a distraction. I needed something else...

At first I thought my stomach was heaving, but I realized it was actually my goop-bladder thingy. I felt a twinge of excitement that was quickly replaced with discomfort. Just like the sensation of the stomach being tied up in knots, the bladder sent waves of pain and other bizarre sensations through my body. I groaned and leaned over the edge of the bed, too shaky to run to the bathroom. I squeezed my eyes shut as the pain reached a crescendo and something forced its way up my throat. It was thick; I could feel it stretching my neck out as I heaved, unable to gasp for air as the bulk and pressure forced my windpipe shut. My lungs burned, vision spotted with black the few times I managed to open my eyes. My fingers gripped the underside of my mattress, the artificial fibers fraying under my grasp and cutting into my fingertips. I had the feeling I might die here, on my bed, and I didn't even have the energy to panic. Finally I forced whatever it was out of my throat and drew in a desperate gasp of air, coughing and wheezing for breath. My heavy breathing eventually subsided and I became aware of an odd squishing, squirming sound. My brain reminded me that I'd just coughed up something new as it rebooted. I could feel my power reaching out again while I looked over to see what I'd made.

I screamed.

The creature was something out of a nightmare. More than a foot long, it was bloated, limbless and malformed. Its body was the slimy gray-white of uncooked oysters, bulging like someone had poured a lot of potatoes into a plastic garbage bag. That is, if the potatoes undulated and shifted places in an unnatural way. The noises I heard were from the thing writhing and its body shifting, causing the amniotic fluid around it to ripple. But the body wasn't the worst part, hard as that was to believe. The head was gray-black, like organic gunmetal, a tiny blackhead on one end of the pale tumor. Mandibles sort of like a termite's clicked lazily, a needle-thin red tongue flicking out between snaps. The tongue wriggled on its own, like an earthworm in fast-motion. Its eyes, pits like obsidian tar, stared vacantly at nothing, and I knew there was no sentience within this creature even before my power reached it. There was no instinct. This monstrosity was solely my creation and had no mind of its own whatsoever.

I couldn't help it. I vomited. And it wasn't purple this time, but actual vomit born from disgust and self-loathing. I sobbed between heaves as my stomach emptied itself. I was an abomination, an unnatural creature that probably deserved to be hunted. I cried louder, thick saliva dripping from my mouth along with the previous day's meals. I closed off my mind and shut my eyes, wanting to never again feel that...that evil thing's presence, but it didn't leave me. I had shut myself away from every other bug, yet that thing was still there. I could feel every inch of it, see through its vacant, mindless eyes. I screamed again, more puke bursting from me.

By this time dad and the Undersiders had made it to my room, which only amplified my self-loathing. They saw what I'd made, what I truly _was_. They had the chance to run. The monster was still dry-heaving and sobbing, lost in its own despair. They could escape before it recovered. Instead they moved closer. My father sat beside the monster, beside _me_, and actually hugged me, reaching to dab my mouth with a tissue. I shrieked and pushed away from him, gangly limbs flailing as I babbled incoherently. Maybe I'd been able to articulate something about my being an unholy insult to human existence, but mostly it was just nonsense gurgled through a soup of stomach acid, mucus and drool.

Dad held me tighter and the rest of them crowded around me. Good. Perhaps they were going to smother the monster. Dad was still young. He could try again; maybe luck of the draw would give him a child who wasn't an insult to nature next time.

Brian sat on my other side and embraced me. No, this wasn't right. They needed to kill me before I became as hideous and monstrous on the outside as I surely was within. Lisa rested against me from behind, then shifted over as Rachel outright hugged me. Aisha rubbed my head and Alec even took my hand, his face filled with nothing but concern.

I cried harder.

(BREAK)

I must have sobbed for an hour at least. My voice was ragged and my head felt like it was going to explode from all the screaming and crying I'd done. Finally, though, I'd bawled as much as I could. I looked around at them, utterly confused. "Why..." My voice cracked and I coughed. "Why are you still here?"

"You're family," Rachel said from behind me.

If I'd had any more tears, they'd have started flowing anew. I reached back for Rachel and returned the hug as best I could. I knew most of her story, thought I understood her pain and her fear. For her to say that was, to me at least, better than a blessing from God. Perhaps we were exactly what she'd needed: people who accepted her for who and what she was, who didn't place false expectations on her or try to force her into a role. Regardless, the fact that I'd done that for her restored my hope in myself. Perhaps I wasn't a monster.

"I don't want to make you cry again," Brian's voice was soft and soothing, "but I need to ask: did you make that thing?" I couldn't voice a reply yet, so I just nodded. "And it's what got you so upset, right?" He received another nod from me and hugged me tighter. "Lisa, maybe if you told us what it was we might feel better."

Lisa's little blonde head poked up over mine and she stared at the monstrous thing for nearly a minute. "Wow..." Her tone wasn't of horror, but one of awe. "Taylor, I know you probably don't want to hear me say this, but that thing is incredible! Part of what's scaring you is that it doesn't really have a brain, right?" I could tell she was grinning when I nodded. "Well that's because it's a living egg!"

I looked back at her and noticed that everyone except dad was giving her the same incredulous look. Dad was still just hugging me, focused on his baby girl to the exclusion of everything else.

"It has some kind of mutable DNA inside its torso," Lisa clarified. "That's why it doesn't seem suited for anything; it's not. In fact, I think it's designed to eat that purple stuff you make and use the nutrients to fuel a metamorphosis." She rested her hand on my spine, between Rachel's body and my own. "Look past the hideous thing you see on the floor, and see if you can access the possibilities inside it."

I really didn't want to. I'd been trying to keep that monstrosity as far away from my mind as possible. But they had faith in me, and I wasn't going to let them down. I focused on the creature and felt something click into place within my mind. Like a lock had been opened, I could feel the essences churning within the thing. It was amazing, beautiful in an unconventional way like particularly moving bagpipe music. I plucked genetic fragments out of the aether and began to build, like I was a kid with legos.

It needed to be powerful, yes, but speed and size were just as important. Too big and it'd just get in the way. Bitch's dogs brought the size and power, so I went with something about the size of a mastiff. I wanted to give it legs like a velociraptor for speed, but it also needed stability, and a method of gripping. Ideas spun faster in my head. Raccoons had those hand-like forelimbs, so a thinner and more maneuverable set of forelimbs with an opposable dewclaw for gripping a target. I basically had to choose between strength and fine motor skills. This creature was meant to be a weapon; I could turn my own doorknobs.

I blunted the snout, putting the teeth up front and having the rest of the skull slope away from the jaws. Added curving horns, short and stout, to help protect the head and neck. What else could I include? A random thought flew in: Alec's Dead Space game, where the monsters had those long blade-arm things coming out of their shoulders. I started with a set of vestigial wings, then turned them forward and thickened the bones. The webbed fingers pinched together into a single digit, which was then converted into a long blade of bone. This would be the primary weapon: the foreclaws and teeth would be more for holding onto a target, while the blades did the real damage. I did my best to hit a mental "Save" button so I could use this template again.

I pulled out, returning to the real world. "Okay," I rasped, "let's go to the garage."

(BREAK)

I set the squirming thing in the middle of the garage, still unable to keep from looking at it with disgust. "Brace yourselves, folks," I murmured. "This is probably gonna get gross."

I focused and began to spew violet glop onto the creature, the mess swiftly pooling around it. The thing flopped excitedly – apparently there was some instinct in there, just needing the right trigger – and planted itself face-down in the spew. Somehow it began to soak up the goo and I knew more was needed. I spit up even more, another gallon or so being sucked up. The body rounded and began to bloat, now interlaced with thick veins the same color as my spew. As I upchucked more, I resolved to ask the others for help naming some of this shit.

Soon the pulsating egg-cocoon was a good four feet around and I only had to spit every now and then for maintenance. After another minute or so, I warned everyone to brace themselves. I could feel the presence within the egg awakening.

The egg burst in a shower of purple viscera, and the first thing visible was a pair of luminous red eyes. I hadn't planned on that, but it certainly had a good intimidation factor. The dark-gray body was a combination of chitin and scales and the new creature shook itself off. I could feel instincts within it, a basic mind programmed to my liking: this was a pack animal, fast and cunning and, above all, loyal. I hoped that my efforts would prove fruitful, that I could leave it with a more complex autopilot script when I slept. It twitched its blades and uttered a gurgling growl.

"Wow," I said in a hushed voice. I couldn't stop myself from grinning. I stepped forward and ran my fingers along the length of its body, the new beast twitching with delight. I was its master, and even without my mental commands it still enjoyed my affection. This must be how Nilbog felt, being able to create companions of his own. Unlike him, however, I had no urge to replace people with these things. I hugged my creation around the neck. Not being like Nilbog didn't mean that I found no enjoyment in creating new life.

Alec was the first to speak up. "That...is fucking awesome." He took a step forward. "Is it friendly?"

I nodded. "I think so. If he starts acting up I'll take control, but he should be safe."

He stepped up and patted it on the head. It didn't mind.

After that everyone was crowding around it. Lisa darted every which way, studying the new lifeform, while Rachel evaluated it like a breeder would a dog. Dad stepped beside me and hugged me close. "This is amazing, Taylor. I'm so proud of you."

My heart swelled and I realized I was proud of myself as well. Maybe I wasn't a monster. Maybe I truly was just a girl playing the hand she'd been dealt.

"So," Aisha spoke up, having used her power to sneak up on my creation and take a seat on it like a pony, "what're you gonna call it?" The beast grunted in frustration and poked at her with the elbows of its blade-limbs, wanting her off.

I took control and bucked Aisha off of it. "He doesn't like that." Interestingly enough, despite having an almost wolflike level of intelligence, the creature took no offense at my controlling it. I guessed since I made it, it found my control natural. I tapped my chin, looking at the critter. "Well, since I based it on a dinosaur before anything else...I think I'll call it a raptor."


	16. Essence 06

**Essence 2.06**

We spent much of the afternoon playing with the raptor. Despite its rather terrifying appearance, it really did act like a housepet with us. If I hadn't specifically designed it to be a lethal weapon, I might've worried about just how effective it would be in combat. I hadn't named it yet, because there was a good chance it might die in the fight with Lung and I didn't want to get too attached.

Brutus, Judas and Angelica had been rightfully disturbed by the newcomer, spending at least a half-hour pacing around the raptor and sniffing it from all conceivable angles. When they finally concluded the weird new thing wasn't a threat, they decided to let him join in the little game of keep-away they would play with an old rope toy.

Honestly, it wasn't a fair game in the least. My raptor was noticeably faster and several times stronger, in addition to being the size of a bull mastiff, but he was a good sport and let them steal the toy just so the game could continue. Watching him bound around, wiggling his little stump of an aerodynamic, vestigial tail was a relaxing way to spend the day. We also found out that he liked hugs and would make a funny gurgling sound when you snuggled him around the neck. It was truly amazing how much of a personality the creature had when I had only really designed him as a weapon. Perhaps my sense of whimsy had come out to play as I'd put him together.

All play and no work, however, gets you immolated by a dragon (Shut up. Between "Skitter" and "raptor," I seemed to only get one cool-sounding name or phrase each month and I was tapped out). We settled down, me and Rachel on the floor resting on our respective pets, and I asked Tattletale to contact Coil. While we'd been playing and chatting my brain hadn't been idle. I had a plan.

(BREAK)

I hadn't expected Coil to have a secretary, let alone one who sounded as nonchalant as if she worked in a nail salon. She asked me to hold for Coil, so I switched on speakerphone while we waited. I was silently thankful that he didn't have elevator muzak on his idle line.

"_Skitter."_ The man's voice, as before, was deep and full of presence. But there was also an undertone of greasiness, an unease that said he was untrustworthy. He was honorable in a way and kept his deals, but he was always looking for a way to fuck you over. _"I had said that I would contact you. What prompted the Undersiders to reach out?"_

I kept the raptor silent, having it take slow, shallow breaths. It wouldn't do for him to get suspicious. "We're hitting Lung tomorrow night in a joint assault with the Protectorate. I have a plan to take out both Lung and Oni Lee, but I need the Travelers' cooperation. Specifically, Trickster and Genesis."

"_Interesting."_ He let the word hang in the air. _"Are you going to share with the rest of the class?"_

"You don't need to know the details, Coil," Brian spoke up. "You just need to get us in touch with the Travelers. We have the same immediate goal but we don't owe you anything."

I thought I saw Lisa twitch. Maybe I'd ask her later.

"_Very well."_ It must have burned for a planner like Coil, being left out of the loop. He rattled off a number that would supposedly connect us to the Travelers. _"I hope that it does not bear reiteration, but try not to die. Empire Eighty-Eight is waiting to pounce and we'll need all the manpower we can get if they make their big push."_ He hung up without another word.

We looked around at each other and shrugged. I tossed the phone to Lisa, who was the only one I figured would remember the Travelers' number since I hadn't thought to write it down, and she dialed them up.

"_What is it, Coil?"_ I figured that was Trickster's voice.

"Not quite. This is Skitter and the Undersiders. We're taking down Lung tomorrow and we could use your help."

"_...I'll need to hear more than that before we agree to anything."_ Smart. Then again, the Travelers were all about self-preservation, nomads who did some work and then left when the heat got to be too much.

"Well, you've seen or heard the reports about how Lung's been using Oni Lee as a human backpack, right?"

"_Yeah, and they teleport away when they're cornered. Honestly, I'm confused about that. I thought Lee could only poof himself."_

"That's how his powers have always worked until the war," Lisa chimed in. "Either he had a second trigger event or, being a kill-crazy bastard, he never tried."

"Either way," I reined things in before we could get too pedantic, "I have a plan to stop them from escaping. I really just need you and Genesis, but Sundancer and Ballistic would be good backup just in case. But first I need to know: can Genesis change into something fireproof and durable enough to take a few hits from Lung?"

I heard Trickster relay the question. _"Yeah, she can."_

I grinned and told him my plan.

(BREAK)

Next, we needed to let the PRT know what we were working on. We popped in our earpieces, dad squatting down next to me in an attempt to hear as well. I couldn't help giggling at his awkward posture, and had to steel myself before calling.

"Undersiders calling in. Can we get in touch with the Director, Armsmaster or Miss Militia?"

"_One moment, Undersiders, I'll check who's available,"_ the operator replied calmly. Either he was calm under pressure and the risk of the greater PRT getting wind of this breach of protocol didn't faze him, or he just didn't give a shit regardless. _"Okay, patching you through to Armsmaster."_

Not my first choice, but whatever.

"_Armsmaster,"_ he said simply. _"You've put together a plan for tomorrow night?"_

"We have," Brian replied. "Instead of an ambush, we'll be coming in from the northeast in a pincer attack to hedge off all means of escape by the ABB. We're bringing in the Travelers as additional firepower should E88 try to capitalize on the fight, and we also have a plan to keep Oni Lee from escaping with Lung. But to make sure it goes off without a hitch, we need Miss Militia in our group. Is that doable?"

The communicators crackled in a pregnant pause. _"...I don't understand why, but apparently she trusts you enough to agree to this. She'll be at Skitter's place at 1800 tomorrow."_ He didn't ask for approval or even check that the time was agreeable. _"I'm working on a weapon that should be able to kill an Endbringer. If you hurt her or betray us, I'm testing it out on you."_ He cut the transmission after that threat.

"Ominous," Alec quipped.

"So we know the plan for everybody else," Aisha said as she made herself known again, a granola bar in hand, "what about for us?"

"Pretty simple, actually," I said as the raptor yawned. "Tattletale, Regent and Grue will hang back as ranged support. Grue's primary goal will be confusing Oni Lee, while Regent's will be to get Lung off-balance and give us openings to attack. Tats, you'll be feeding us information through the earpieces. Enemy plans, structural weaknesses, anything that looks like we can take advantage of it." I looked over to Aisha. "Imp, you'll be a scout. You're not trained to fight so even that taser is an absolute last resort. Your main schtick will be to get new angles on the fight and give us info. If you're positive that you can intercept someone without putting yourself at risk, I'm trusting you to use proper judgment in taking them down."

"In other words," Brian clarified, "remember that you're my baby sister and the only real family I have left. Please don't get yourself hurt or killed."

Aisha was going to snark back at him, but his sincere expression of worry stopped her. She eventually nodded. "Okay," she said in a subdued voice. I think the seriousness of the coming fight had finally sunk in.

I nodded in approval and looked over at Rachel. "Bitch, you and I will be the front line. You hit them from the ground, I'll hit them from the air." I brought in a swarm and had them assemble into little cubes. "I figure they'll be using this warehouse as their base of operations," I pointed to the largest cube and had a firefly light up at the top. "It's big and sturdy. Now over here," I let the warehouse's firefly wink out and lit up one to the right, "this building is bad for snipers or what have you, so it should be pretty safe for me to land my bomb bugs. We'll want to try luring Lung near here so my bugs will be able to get the drop on him. I melt him, your dogs ragdoll his ass, we call it a night."

"Fuckin' A," Rachel grunted.

"Now if you'll all excuse me," I said as I stood, "I need to head out to the garage and barf up a new complement of grenade bugs." I looked over my shoulder. "By the way, somebody has to help me name the freaky shit I make."

"I volunteer!"

"No, Alec." Even my dad joined in the chorus this time.

(BREAK)

After about an hour, the purple mess was dissolving and I had a bucket full of glowing green death. The next step was to talk with everybody, one-on-one. I knew Grue was the leader and would probably be doing the same thing, but I was still the outsider – or at least I felt like it. Overall I knew so little about them. Since tomorrow night was going to be an immensely risky venture, with the best chance of somebody ending up dead since I'd joined up with the Undersiders, I wanted to learn a bit more because otherwise it might be too late. I knew that was morbid even for me; I was probably still reeling from the egg-bug fiasco.

The first person I wanted to talk with was Rachel. It was easy enough to get her alone since she preferred to be on the outskirts. My raptor and I sat down beside her. "Hey."

"Hey," she muttered back.

This was probably going to get me punched but I didn't care. I leaned over and hugged her tight. I felt her stiffen but when the blow didn't immediately come I kept going. "Thank you. What you said earlier, I think you saved me."

She just blinked in confusion.

"When you said I'm family. I felt like such a monster, an abomination. And I know you started out not liking me, so it meant even more."

Rachel shrugged, still looking confused. She probably didn't get why that mattered so much to me. "You are," she said matter-of-factly. "I don't give a fuck if you're a monster. Monsters are badass, like Crawler. You get me. Your dad gets me. I think Lisa gets me too but the bitch never shuts the fuck up." She scoffed. "Fuckin' words. The dogs are so much easier."

"It's okay," I said. "Just say what you want to. Don't worry about it being pretty."

"Fine," she huffed. "Shit. You guys, you make me feel like I'm okay. All those fuckin' foster homes, they always made me the bad guy, made me the one who needed to change. You tell me I'm okay as I am. Your dad tells me I'm okay as I am." She turned to look at me. "You put your life on the line. You're part of the pack. You're family." She couldn't help laughing. "Fuck you, y'know? Now you're just like Lisa, tryin' to get me talking." Rachel gave me a shove and I flopped back against the raptor. "Storytime's over. Go yak at somebody else."

It was pretty clear she was at the end of her patience, but I thought I saw the ghost of a smile as she chased me off.

As I ambled back to the living room, I couldn't help but wonder. First Grue opened up in the middle of the street, now Rachel was more talkative than I'd ever seen her. Was there something in the water? Actually, that'd be interesting. Maybe the PRT had a bio-tinker mess with the supply drops so people would be more apt to spill their guts. It'd be a novel way to root out gang supporters.

Alec was next, seated on the couch beside my dad, the both of them watching WWE. I rolled my eyes. I managed to catch dad's eye and wiggled my phone before dialing his number. He got the message and stood up, looking to Alec. "I need to take this. Lemme know how it turns out."

I took the spot my father had vacated. "Hey."

"Shut up," was his eloquent reply. He pointed at the screen.

I couldn't care less about two beefy actors throwing themselves around. I huffed for a moment before remembering who I was dealing with. Might as well appeal to his own brand of weird. "I was trying to do the whole 'talk with the group before the suicide mission' schtick. But if you'd rather watch these guys grope each other than unload your darkest secrets..."

"Oh eat my ass," he chuckled. "Look, I haven't told anybody much about my past, not even Brian. I figure Lisa already knows because her power is bullshit, but thankfully she's keeping quiet. If I live through this fight, I might consider telling you." He grinned at me. "Till then, fuck off and let me watch these guys grope each other."

I just rolled my eyes and mussed his hair. Well, I was 1 and 1 so far, with three more to go. I passed dad and let him know it was safe to go back to the impromptu man cave.

"So am I your next stop in Caring and Sharing Time?"

I whirled around to see Aisha grinning at me. "Ah, shit. You've been following me the whole time, huh?"

"Yep!" Aisha's grin didn't leave her face. "But there's not much to tell about me. Mom's a druggie, I got powers, I was gonna live with Brian, now I'm living with you." She stepped forward. "I'm more interested in you. Your powers are freaky as shit and I'm curious."

I rolled my eyes. She'd spy on me anyway, so I might as well tell her straight-out instead of letting her form her own conclusions. From the way she and Alec had a similar sense of humor, I figured letting Aisha put facts together would lead to a story about my dad and mutant bug lovin'.

I led her to my bedroom and sat down on the bed. "Well, do you know how I triggered?" When she shook her head, I explained. "My former best friend teamed up with a vicious psychopath to terrorize me for two years, culminating in trapping me in a locker filled with biohazard waste. After I was in a coma for a week, I woke up with powers."

Aisha's jaw hung slack. "...Okay, I think you might win on the shitty-trigger-ometer with that one. So, with your friend, I mean what the fuck?"

I couldn't help chuckling. "Turns out, she'd triggered. Had some sort of power-detecting ability. And the vicious psychopath? She was a Ward. Shadow Stalker, in fact."

"No shit," she interrupted. "Stalker always painted herself as Brian's personal nemesis. She always went with the lethal ammo when she came for the Undersiders."

"Makes sense. Anyway, with her new powers and Stalker feeding her this social-Darwinist bullshit, my friend basically went crazy and decided she needed to torture me into triggering."

"That's, yeah, that's fucked. So," she bounced from somber to jovial faster than I could properly register, "what else can you do with your powers?"

I shrugged. "You've pretty much seen the extent of it. I went bald for some reason and my body reinforced my ribcage and spine, but other than that I control bugs, hock up new inventions, and almost choke myself to death producing abominations to nature that I then turn into cool new pets."

"I was hoping you'd been holding out on us and were gonna turn into a giant killer bug to fight Lung. Oh well." Aisha shrugged and just left. I'd never understand that girl.

I stood up, stretched, and decided to find Lisa next.

After wandering the house, I found Lisa in the garage, studying my bomb-bugs. I walked up to stand beside her. "Wanna know something funny? You probably know more about these things than me." Lisa gave me a confused look and I elaborated. "I made these on instinct to protect me against Lung. I have no clue where the blueprint for them came from, and it's hard to modify them. Anything I try in my mind messes up their base function – that is, popping like a water balloon and melting things."

Lisa shrugged. "There's a lot of things about them – about you – that don't make sense. These guys aren't big, but they aren't small either. To produce as many as you do, not only must they form as they're being launched from your reservoir, but your throat has to somehow expand to allow them to fly out." She held up her fingers to indicate the size of their abdomens. "They're not much smaller around than your egg-bug thing, yet you coughed them out with barely any effort." She paced around the bucket. "Then there's the fact that when you change you vomit up gallons of your purple stuff. Is that your body purging the old and making way for a new, improved batch?" She groaned. "There are so many questions that I can't answer, and I'm not used to that."

"Let's focus on something else for the moment, then," I said to her in a serious tone. She looked up. "Our backer is Coil." I didn't phrase that as a question.

She gave a mirthless chuckle and shook her head. "Too smart for your own good, just like me. Yeah, he's our backer, and he'll kill me if anybody else knows before he's ready to reveal himself to us."

I blinked. "Well that's fucking strange. Why does he want to remain anonymous? And why would he employ someone with _your_ power, who'd surely figure it out?" Coil made less sense the more I knew about him.

"He told me from the get-go. Long story short, he had an agent come to me with a gun in one hand and a big bag of money in the other. Work for him or die. I'm smart, but I can't somehow out-think a bullet." She sighed. "I never wanted to be a villain. I was a small-time crook, siphoning people's bank accounts until I could get myself set up. I wanted to get into stocks." She afforded herself a moment of wistfulness. "And as for why he wants to keep in the shadows, best I can figure he has his fingers in a lot of pies. He's in the government or the PRT, that's almost certain. I can't skip town without him knowing about it and he _will_ find me. The Undersiders are some sort of experiment, a proof-of-concept or something. I don't know what he had planned, but this war was definitely not on his agenda." She looked me in the eyes and even then I had to fight the urge to hug her. Damn those freckles. "If we can somehow keep deviating from his plans, maybe we can find a way to one-up him and get out from under his thumb."

I excused myself from the conversation. I had originally planned to talk with Brian and then with my dad, but after that information dump I just needed to sit for a while and process it all. While Empire Eighty-Eight might be the most immediate and tangible threat, I got the feeling that Coil would be the greatest foe we'd face.


	17. Essence 07

**Essence 2.07**

It's weird. After my talk with Lisa, maybe I was just so flooded with stress that I came full-circle to calm, because I drifted off to sleep and had arguably the best rest I'd gotten since the war started. Of course, I was tense as an overtightened guitar string once I woke up, but small favors and all that. My raptor followed me around the house, gently nudging me and wanting me to pet it. I think it realized my stress and, good pet that it was, wanted to make me feel better. There really had to be something different in my brain chemistry, like how Rachel understood her dogs: while the others looked at the raptor as a novelty, a fascinating thing to be studied or something crazy to have fun with, I genuinely cared about it like it was a pet I'd had for a long time. It was _mine_, and I wanted to keep it safe, which only made the knowledge that it'd probably die fighting Lung hurt even more.

Throughout the morning we tried to keep the conversations light. I couldn't be sure if everyone else was as nervous as I was, or if they were restraining themselves for my benefit. We finally all settled down in the living room to watch the original _Star Wars_ trilogy. I couldn't help thinking that dad had picked these movies for their underlying message. Well, not the black-and-white, good-vs-evil message, but the one about hope and determination defeating overwhelming odds.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. As dad was preparing an early dinner for us, our earpieces beeped. I had a couple houseflies carry mine over and popped it in. "Skitter here. The others are getting their comms set up as we speak."

"_Good. It's Miss Militia. Have Grue ready to cover my entrance and we can discuss the plan you have. I'll be on your block in about five minutes."_

"Roger," I replied. "We'll get into costume." I switched off my earpiece. "Okay, for anybody who didn't get their communicator in, we need to get in costume ASAP. Miss Militia's almost here."

Brian nodded. "I'll cover her approach. Think we can use the garage again?"

"Sure. That way she can see my bomb bugs. And also..." I swallowed hard, feeling like my throat was lined with sandpaper. "...I'll have to show her the raptor."

Brian stepped closer, putting a hand on my shoulder. He didn't say anything but he lingered long enough before leaving to change.

(BREAK)

"Once we get a proper headquarters again," I told Imp, "I can weave costumes for everybody. Until then, you wear layers. Why do you even care about fashion, anyway? Your power is to go unnoticed."

"A girl likes to feel pretty," she stubbornly replied. I just shook my head, pinching the bridge of my nose through my mask.

Grue's darkness blocked out the windows and we ceased our (unnecessary, in my opinion) conversation. Miss Militia opened the door and stepped in. She regarded us all as Grue entered behind her and came over to stand with us. "Well, you all look outfitted for combat. What's the plan?"

I shouldn't have been surprised, yet I was. Miss Militia had always been the kindest of the adult capes I'd interacted with, even going so far as to act a little girlish just to help me feel comfortable. Now, she was all business. Despite the fact that it was my plan, Grue was the leader and I was still the shy girl I'd always been. He cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Before we go into detail, I need you to know that this plan hinges on violence. Are you okay with blowing off Oni Lee's kneecaps and elbows?" His query sounded more casual than I'd have phrased it. I didn't want her to think we were psychopaths. The last thing I needed was for someone to think Sophia and I had anything in common.

Miss Militia winced a little, but she was a survivor of real war. It probably wasn't due to the violence, but to Grue's phrasing. I hoped. She looked him straight in the eyes through his mask. "To stop this war and save Brockton Bay? I am." She propped her foot up on a nearby box. "Now tell me the plan."

We spent a good fifteen minutes going over what was originally a very simple plan. Now more than ever I was thankful that Miss Militia was a good guy. She added further brutality to our strategies, suggesting new formations and pointing out places on the human body to deal the most damage with the least effort, as well as the most effective points to hit if you only wanted to incapacitate someone.

Inevitably, the question "anything else?" was asked. Grue nodded to me and I swallowed again. I walked over and lifted the lid off the bucket. I hadn't secured it so my bugs could still breathe; I honestly wasn't sure if they would still be volatile after death. I saw Miss Militia's eyebrows rise as the green glow was revealed.

"This is how I beat Lung last time," I said, tilting the bucket so she could see. She made a soft noise of revulsion at the malformed, glowing insects. "I call them bomb bugs, or grenade bugs, but I'm bad with names."

"Those creatures aren't natural." She didn't say it in an accusatory manner, nor a hysterical one. It was a statement of fact, one I couldn't refute.

I took in a deep breath to steady myself. "No, they're not. I made them." Thankfully, she waited and let me explain in my own time. "Somehow I have the ability to see how bugs work and put together parts to build new things. These ones, though," I picked one up to show how swollen it was, "I made on instinct when Lung was going to kill me."

"The alkaloid that took him down?" Lisa interjected. "That's them."

I felt like I myself was a bug under Miss Militia's scrutiny. I couldn't keep the words from spilling out. "Yes, I knew when I came to see the Wards. I was terrified you'd see me as the second coming of Nilbog and lock me in the Birdcage or something just to be safe."

"How do you make them?" Her tone was flat. At the very least, being flat, it wasn't the tone of someone afraid or forming preconceptions. On the downside, it also wasn't a sympathetic voice.

I coughed into my hand and a fresh bomb bug squirmed in the purple slime. "The more I make, the more it takes out of me. When I brought down Lung, I nearly collapsed afterwards. And..." This was the moment of truth. Fear lanced through my body like needles somehow using my spine as a racetrack. "That's not all." I gestured to the inner door and the raptor stepped through. "I made him too."

"I don't see how you could have coughed that up." Was she trying to be jovial? Hoping that she'd come to understand my powers before she arrested me? Would she just blow my head off?

"I didn't, not really. I nearly choked to death making something else on instinct. It was a kind of living egg, and I 'hatched' it into him." The Undersiders had closed ranks around me. At least if I died, they'd avenge me. Or maybe the show of solidarity would keep Miss Militia's finger off her trigger.

She eyed me, as thought only she and I existed. The Undersiders didn't matter to her. I somehow knew that, even if I could take her down, she could still kill me in retribution. "...We'll discuss this more after tonight," she said, voice flat. "For now, we still need your power."

Grue, eager to give us a different threat to focus on, spoke up. "Alright then, let's move out. We need to meet the Travelers and get in position."

(BREAK)

We met the Travelers in a decently-sized house. Well, the ruins of a decently-sized house, anyway. A wall had been blown out and it was condemned, but it was stable enough. They had arrived in force: Sundancer, Ballistic and Trickster. I knew that the fourth one was Genesis by sheer virtue of her looking entirely different. This time Genesis was some sort of hybrid between a monitor lizard and a hedgehog. Deep red and roughly the size of a person, she had six limbs with vicious-looking claws and was covered in barbed spines.

"So," Trickster said, currently lounging on a charred La-Z-Boy, "think you can handle things long enough for the plan to come together?"

Bitch looked like she was ready to rise to his challenge and start an argument we definitely didn't need, so I called in my pet. The Travelers all looked with confusion at the raptor, who was balancing the bucket of explosive bugs on his back with the help of his blade-limbs. I didn't opt to explain, instead summoning a horde of dragonflies to lift the bomb-bugs out of the bucket and land on the roof for now. As we'd moved I'd gathered bugs from everywhere and had a swarm at least a million strong. Of those, a significant number could fly even without the hundred-or-so dragonflies who were now playing bug bomber.

"Okay seriously," Genesis croaked out, sounding like a cartoon frog, "what is that thing?" Her overlarge eyes, normally rotating like a chameleon's, were fixed on my raptor.

"He's one of our secret weapons," Grue muttered as he tossed the bucket aside. I allowed the raptor to stretch now that it no longer had to hold the weight. Sundancer noticeably flinched at the sight of those blades flashing in the dim light.

"Oh relax, you pussies," Regent admonished the group. "He's under control."

Reflexively, Grue slapped him upside the head. "Regent, don't antagonize our temporary allies." He turned back to Trickster. "Protectorate says we should wait somewhere on Harger until the shooting starts, so we don't get caught in the crossfire. It'll also be a good way to catch them off-guard." He flicked his hand in a 'move-out' gesture and we fell in line behind him. Miss Militia increased her stride to march alongside Grue, and the Travelers shrugged to each other before following.

The Undersiders, Miss Militia and I all had our earpieces in, and we'd synched our phones with Trickster's for quick walkie-talkie messages just in case. Once we'd set up in an overgrown lot on Harger Drive, Miss Militia announced we were in position, and we waited for her cue to strike.

Gunshots in real life aren't the _pop-pop-pop_ you hear on TV or in movies. I'd seen a special once that explained a simple pistol shot was as loud as a jet engine, and that it was only the briefness of the sound that made it not quite as deafening. Still, a lot of gunshots at once could damage the human ear, and the noise carried far. We could hear the back-and-forth shots between the ABB and the PRT, our side supplemented by the National Guard. Finally, after at least a minute of exchanged fire, we got the go order.

Miss Militia, Bitch and I each leapt atop a monster-dog and rode off, my raptor easily keeping pace beside us. I thought I was on Judas this time as I gently guided the dog with my boots in his flanks, holding onto a spur of bone for leverage. The rest of the group came behind us, keeping their distance for safety.

I sent my swarm up and around, scouting the rooftops. I relayed an order for all of our side's snipers to briefly grab their right shoulders with their left hands, which quickly allowed me to differentiate the good guys from the bad. Enemy snipers and other assorted unpleasants waiting to get the drop on us quickly had their feet mobbed by roaches and beetles, distracting them long enough for my fliers to get in. Even houseflies, without their genetic cousins' ability to bite, could scratch and itch enough to be a problem, especially if they managed to scratch eyes. Wasps and hornets, of course, did what they were meant to and covered every inch of skin in stinging welts. In the process, I had my spiders sneak into the warehouse and prepare to drop down.

Several of the enemy staggered off their positions, falling over the rooftop edges and landing with hideous crunching sounds. I forced myself to harden my heart, ignoring the people who had probably died. There was greater danger afoot.

As if to punctuate that thought, Battery crashed through the warehouse wall, tumbling in the glass and shattered bricks. She tried to stand but it was slow going. Assault repeatedly tried to close with Lung but Oni Lee kept intercepting him with clones. I could see the fury in Assault's expression as he obliterated every copy the moment they came within reach. Lung was at least nine feet tall and bristling with scales, which was probably bad for my raptor, but the important thing was that he was outside of the warehouse. The ABB inside no longer had Lung's heat to protect them.

Horseflies and wasps swarmed the grunts while dragonflies swooped in, tails laden down with fire ants. They landed on bigger, tougher-looking soldiers and released their cargo while the spiders dropped down from the ceiling and began winding silk. Outside, Miss Militia and I leapt off the dogs and let Bitch take control.

One of the ABB fought through the pain, breaking a window and opening fire on me. Before I could even react, the raptor had leapt in front of my face to shield me from the worst blows. I screamed in despair as the bullets impacted its body, barely noticing the shots that hit my arm and shoulder. While they didn't puncture my suit, the sheer force had broken my forearm and at least dislocated my shoulder. The raptor growled and I realized the bullets hadn't hurt it. It was just mad.

Miss Militia manifested a behemoth of a weapon, some sort of light machine gun, and laid down suppressing fire into the warehouse. The grunts dropped, giving my spiders an even better angle to mummify the bastards. On the other side of the warehouse, I could see the fight clearly due to illumination from Lung's flames. Oni Lee had attempted to cut Battery's throat Assault had lost all pretense of cooperation. He was pursuing the assassin with everything he had, and the collateral damage had almost certainly killed the few grounded snipers who hadn't died from their falls. Lung, wanting to capitalize on this, went after Battery but was waylaid by Armsmaster, who boldly faced down an opponent four feet taller than him with nothing but his tech-halberd.

I had to admit: while I didn't necessarily like Armsmaster as a person, I could respect and even admire him for his skills. He expertly wielded his halberd, fighting defensively and spinning the weapon to keep Lung off-balance. He scored a few hits but they meant little to those thickening scales. Suddenly Lung's arm jerked and Armsmaster managed to hit him in the throat, causing the dragon-man to stagger back. The rest of the group had reached the fight.

"Trickster!" I pointed in Oni Lee's direction and trusted the veteran would know what to do. At my shout Miss Militia re-formed her weapon into a shotgun and took aim at Genesis.

It all happened in a matter of seconds, but the elation of my plan coming together made me see everything in slow motion. After his last teleportation, Oni Lee found his vision obscured by darkness. The moment's hesitation this caused was all Trickster needed. Lee vanished and was replaced with Genesis, with Assault coming to a screeching halt before hitting her. Lee appeared where Genesis had been, only to scream in pain as Miss Militia shot him in the knee. She clearly wasn't playing around, as the force of the blast blew off his entire lower leg. Lee collapsed, still clutching his knife, and Miss Militia's next shot turned his arm into ground beef. Then Imp appeared and jabbed him with her taser.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and gasped for air. I needed to give the next order, but my mouth wouldn't work. Thankfully, Grue took the lead. _"Lure Lung toward us! We can take him down!"_

His voice in my ear jarred me into action and I took command of my raptor. Tattletale spoke up next. _"Okay Skitter, Lung's favoring his left arm ever since Regent gave him that spasm. Hit him from the left and he's more likely to retaliate, then you can lead him back here. Bitch, get your dogs in a triangle surrounding where the raptor is right now. We'll want to keep Lung isolated. Assault, Armsmaster, we may need you to double-team him and drive him back if our bait doesn't work."_

"_The hell's a rap– HOLY SHIT WHAT IS THAT THING!?"_ Apparently Assault had just caught sight of the raptor as it charged Lung, moving at least 40 miles per hour. It slammed into Lung and drew a blade across his leg, the glinting shaft of bone carving through the scales and drawing blood. It took another two jabs at him, each one puncturing Lung's hide, then leapt away. Lung fell forward, though he was already perpetually stooped, and carved a trench out of the asphalt with one massive claw. He lunged and the raptor danced away, still faster than Lung and far more agile. His hands and feet – or rather, all four feet, considering he was pretty much a quadruped at this point – left gouges in the ground as he gave chase.

Armsmaster and Assault followed at a fair distance, in case Lung should double back. My raptor suddenly spun and slipped between his legs. He tried to scoop the raptor off the street but Regent caused his arm spasm. My raptor dodged around his claw, bladed limbs pointing up to carve deep trenches in his thighs. Lung hit the ground, chin furrowing the asphalt, before attempting to turn. My raptor danced around to remain behind him, continually stabbing him in the flanks. Something bulged in Lung's back, and I was worried that he was sprouting blades like the raptor's.

"_Shit, he's growing wings!"_ Strangely, Tattletale's observation scared me less than the other possibility.

"I've got him," I shouted into the earpiece. My dragonflies were already airlifting the bomb bugs. Diving in kamikaze arcs, wave after wave of bomb bug impacted Lung, each erupting in a shower of fluorescent green, that lit the night as effectively as Lung's own fire.

Lung released a roar that sounded something like, "No!" His body shuddered as the green glop ate through his muscles. His front legs gave out and he groaned piteously. Scales burst further out of the undamaged parts of his body in some misguided attempt to compensate for his wounds, which refused to regenerate. Now he was some sort of spiky abomination more reminiscent of Hookwolf.

"Bitch! Now!"

She ordered her dogs forward, their mighty claws and teeth digging into his injured flesh. They wrenched him back and forth, slamming him into the ground. He tried to find purchase, flailing his enormous bladed fingers and eventually taking a chunk out of one of the dogs.

"Fuck! Pull them back!" I gathered what few bomb bugs I had left and launched one final bombing run, targeted at his remaining scales. In the aftermath, I wasn't taking chances. My raptor and I screamed in unison as I ran it up Lung's massive thigh. It leapt into the air, letting gravity and its body weight drive its blades deep into the dragon's back. I was in my raptor's mind, the two of us one. I stabbed again, carving out his wing before it could sprout further. The adrenaline pounded in my head, in both of my heads. I felt like the ultimate predator, glutting myself on the suffering of my prey. My human body stomped closer to him so that he could hear me. "You've lost, Lung! Give up now before I slice out your fucking spine!"

"_Skitter, no! Get back!"_

Before Tattletale could even finish her sentence, Lung threw everything he had into one final lunge. He moved fast enough to topple the raptor off of him, and I didn't even have time to dodge. His fingers, mangled and all too human, wrapped around my head while he desperately supported himself with his other three limbs. His strength was sapped enough that he couldn't crush me like a grape, but it still hurt. Panicked, I drew my knife and stabbed his arm again and again. Lung's mutant eyes, slitted and glowing purple, bored into mine through my lenses. He finally understood that he couldn't batter me to death. So he set me on fire instead.

I felt blades of pure heat piercing my skull, then stampeding down from my head to the rest of my body. The pain was so acute, so very _present_, that I couldn't even scream. The dogs were on him again, trying to force him to release me. Miss Militia stepped out of the warehouse, splattered with blood that definitely wasn't hers, and blasted Lung with a rocket launcher. I was enveloped in Grue's darkness, presumably in an effort to mute the heat.

I dropped to the ground all of the sudden, which was strange as Lung was still clutching my head. I impacted the street and, having fallen out of the cloud, my burns started hurting again. I saw Armsmaster standing above me, halberd in hand, threatening Lung. He'd cut the dragon's arm clean in half and was daring him to try again.

I barely managed to focus enough to bring my raptor around, standing guard between me and Lung in case he tried to spit fire again. I hated to think it, but the raptor was replaceable while I wasn't.

"Enough of this." Miss Militia walked over to stand beside Armsmaster and raised her weapon, some bizarre sort of shotgun with a boxlike magazine. She opened fire and, instead of buckshot (or her energy equivalent), shards of her energy blasted forth and carved deep into him. One more shot to center mass had Lung on his back, where Bitch immediately restrained his arms and Grue blinded him. Armsmaster stabbed Lung with his special tranquilizer.

"Alright," the hero said as he stood back up, "it's over. We need to get medical attention for Battery and Skitter–" He was cut off when a metal column burst from the ground and impacted his chest, sending him into the air.

"I wouldn't say it's over just yet," Kaiser smirked.


	18. Essence 08

**Essence 2.08**

As Armsmaster descended from Kaiser's hit, an emormous, needle-thin blade of metal rose to meet him. I tried to shut my eyes but one of my eyelids had been charred too much to close. At the last moment, Armsmaster was replaced. With a wet _schluck_, one of my mummified ABB soldiers was impaled on the lance. My remaining bugs caught sight of Trickster hiding on the warehouse's roof. I began to plot, though thinking was difficult through such pain. We couldn't take the fight indoors, or we'd lose our trump card. Where were the other Travelers? Had they also been hiding, waiting for this very thing to happen?

I managed to drag myself over to a wall, pushing myself into a sitting position. I had to take stock of my resources. Bugs? Not many, and certainly not enough to waylay somebody like Kaiser. Or Hookwolf. Or Menja. Or the tag team of Othala and Victor.

...And they were all here. Shit. Okay, raptor? I only had the one, but he was a tough little guy and could be helpful. Earpiece? Wasn't working. Body? Well and truly fucked. I was a glorified fleshy paperweight.

Okay, new plan. Bugs as messengers. I did my best to keep my raptor out of sight while I gathered what few fliers remained and sent them to Tattletale. I had them fly in formation. _Does your earpiece work?_ I couldn't really understand her one-syllable reply, but it was a deeper noise. Definitely not a 'yes'. Fuck. Something was going on. I had the bugs shift between names. _Kaiser. Wolf. Menja. O & V._

Kaiser didn't seem too perturbed by Armsmaster's reprieve. He stepped forward, his minions closing formation with him. Menja rapidly swelled to her full thirty feet, while Hookwolf began generating his metal.

A truly deafening gunshot rang out and Kaiser's head snapped back before he crumpled. Miss Militia stood tall, an enormous sniper rifle in her hands. I think that kind was called an anti-materiel rifle. She turned to aim at Othala next.

Kaiser sat up.

He was bleeding pretty bad, but then head wounds usually do bleed a lot. The important thing was that he wasn't dead.

Tattletale knelt beside me, having snuck around. "I think Othala gave him invulnerability. It'll be at least as hard to put him down as Lung." She winced as she looked me up and down. "I doubt you can make another storm of bomb bugs, huh? Then do you think you could make bugs who can transmit human voices? Just a handful?"

I tried to quirk an eyebrow at her and winced. Well, I could try. I saw Grue and Bitch walking up to stand in formation with Assault. Genesis slithered out from somewhere and reared up on her four hind legs, flexing her foreclaws. God damn it. We didn't have the manpower to deal with this. Othala had probably given Victor super strength, which meant we'd be dealing with a skinhead Bruce Lee who could benchpress cars. Combine that with Hookwolf, the behemoth Menja, and a super-durable Kaiser...we were fucked.

Armsmaster staggered out of the warehouse, his armor dented from Kaiser's first attack. With a flick of his hand, his halberd rematerialized in his grip. "Come in," I heard him say under his breath. "Dauntless, Velocity, Director Piggot, _come in!_"

One of the new bugs I'd just managed to cough up floated beside his head. Vents in its sides opened and closed, producing a robotic-sounding voice as I relayed Tattletale's words. _"It won't work. There's some sort of jammer active at HQ. Can you rig up some sort of local relay so we can try to communicate from here?"_

He nodded. "Yes, but I won't be able to join the fight while I work."

"_Getting the word out is more important right now. If the Nazis win and we can't tell the world what really happened, then this could turn into the United Reich of America!"_

"Right. I'll get on it. Good luck." Armsmaster ducked back into the relative safety of the warehouse.

I gritted my teeth. Now we were down one of our heaviest hitters and we were up against some of the most powerful and vicious capes in the Bay.

Hookwolf and Victor charged, and Regent made them trip into each other. Victor's enhanced strength made him bowl over Wolf, while the Changer's metal blades bit into Victor's flesh. They tumbled and righted themselves just in time to dive aside as the enormous metal spike, still stained with the blood of the ABB grunt, sliced through the street like a buzzsaw. I looked over to see Ballistic had punched it. Assault closed the distance and punted Hookwolf, sending him sailing. He then barely managed to dodge Menja's spear as she jabbed at him.

Grue blinded Menja while Bitch ordered two of her dogs forward. The injured one, Angelica – I was getting better at recognizing them even while transformed – hung back to guard her. The dogs tackled Menja's legs and bowled her over, while Genesis slithered in so the blonde would land on her spines. The dogs were swiftly impaled by a forest of metal as Kaiser stalked forward.

I had my raptor leap out of the shadows to attack Kaiser. He rolled at the last second and summoned up a flat metal plate to protect him, but the raptor's blade tore through that shield and left a nasty gash in the Nazi leader's side. He retorted with another cluster of blades, which my creature easily leaped away from. It was far faster and more agile than Bitch's dogs, and had the added advantage of my eyes telling it where to dodge.

I heard an agonizing crack and saw Tattletale go down. Victor had punched her in the gut hard enough to knock her unconscious with a single hit. He then loomed over me. "Skitter," he growled. "Good to finally meet you." He stooped down and wrapped his hands around my throat, ready to wring my neck.

Another deafening gunshot and I was splattered with hot viscera. Victor fell on top of me, his head blown apart. Miss Militia kicked the corpse off of me and stalked past, eyes harder than I'd ever seen. This was a woman who didn't like killing, didn't want to kill, but would not hesitate to pull the trigger to save others. I was simultaneously awed and terrified. She switched to that bizarre shotgun again and planted a blast in Menja's center mass as the giantess attempted to stand. The blonde fell back and shattered the lemongrass spikes of Kaiser's blades, squashing more ABB soldiers. Huh, I guessed Trickster must have swapped out Bitch's dogs when I wasn't looking.

Kaiser stomped forward, absolutely livid. Metal bristled from every solid surface as he attempted to hedge us in. My raptor tore through most of the spikes surrounding it until it was pinned down from behind and held immobile. Menja broke off the original column that had launched Armsmaster and swatted Miss Militia like a baseball while Hookwolf had managed to pounce Assault and was doing his best to keep the kinetic manipulator from shaking him off.

I could feel Sundancer on a nearby rooftop, still not doing anything. I sent one of my new voicebugs to her. _"Sundancer, you have to do something. You need to help!"_

"I-I can't," she muttered. "I don't want to kill people..."

"_Either you fight to save your friends or Empire will kill them and then kill you. They'll make it slow and painful."_ She didn't move. I focused, trying to send my actual voice through the bug, the agonized voice of a scared, hurting girl. "Please! Help us!"

Sundancer took a deep breath and held her hands out in front of her like she was cupping a beach ball. Slowly a bright red-orange sphere materialized, growing larger and larger. It descended from the roof and I saw nearby concrete blackening. The metal began to melt. The...the _sun_ she had created drifted toward Kaiser.

I sent my mind into all of my voicebugs, trying to amplify my voice enough. _"Surrender or we turn you to ash!"_

I saw Menja gesture at Sundancer on the roof and my mouth went dry. A lance of metal pierced the blonde's abdomen and she collapsed onto the glinting shaft, either dead or in shock. The sun winked out.

Oh god, we were dead. Grue couldn't fight them off, Regent was just the north side of useless, and my raptor was captured. There was nothing we could do, nothing _I_ could do. I was trapped in a broken, useless body and I had no bugs worth using. I...

I could feel it. Roiling in the sewers, the residue from my vomiting. My mind fully left my body and I became a nebulous cloud in the darkness. I pulled on the ethereal threads and the goop began to surge together, swimming through the stagnant waters. I grabbed and twisted, psychic hands molding the slime into a familiar shape. I kneaded and pressed, forming the limbless body and tiny, hideous head. I opened its mouth and forced the...goo, biomass, whatever...into it. I needed something big, powerful and durable. The egg swelled bigger and bigger, far exceeding my raptor until it was as large as a minivan. I had let my instincts guide its construction and launched it forward as soon as it hatched.

Seconds later, the ground beneath Kaiser exploded. He was hurled into the air by an enormous, glossy black shape, gossamer wings blurring as it carried higher and higher. I turned and flung Kaiser back down, knocking Menja flat. The creature dove, shattering the metal spikes, and tackled Hookwolf. Now that my raptor was free I sent it after Menja. It leapt onto her back and stabbed her again and again, the death of a thousand cuts. She slapped it off of her with enough force that impact with a building knocked it unconscious.

Assault staggered to his feet and rushed Menja, focusing all of the kinetic energy he'd gathered into one strike. The punch caused her shin bone to shatter, the bone erupting through her skin. She hit the ground with a booming scream.

Kaiser staggered to his feet, blinking owlishly. I guessed that he was concussed. He looked ready to retaliate when he was laid flat by an explosion. I looked over to see Miss Militia, lying in a pile of broken brick, holding a rocket launcher. She let her arm drop, exhausted from the fight.

My earpiece crackled to life. _"–eat, this is Armsmaster of the Brockton Bay Protectorate, on all frequencies! Empire Eighty-Eight has launched an all-out assault on the people of this city! Anyone who can hear this, get word to the National Guard and the Triumvirate! We need backup!"_

Another voice came through. _"Dauntless reporting in! We're dealing with Purity, Fenja and Rune! Velocity's doubled back to support PRT headquarters, which is under assault by Stormtiger and Cricket! If anybody with New Wave can hear this, supplement Armsmaster's group and HQ! We can't let them win!"_

Hookwolf wrestled with my creation, starting to gain purchase. He drove metal anchors into the ground, securing himself and pushing back. Assault almost casually walked up to him and punched him in the head, knocking the scarred savage unconscious. Metal sloughed off Hookwolf's body, dematerializing as it left his skin, and my bug dropped him. Armsmaster walked outside to stand beside my new giant bug, facing down the sitting Menja. He lifted his halberd. "I sliced off Lung's arm with this. His will grow back. Will yours?"

She eyed him before shrinking back down, admitting defeat.

Out of the corner of my perception I finally spied Othala, who'd managed to sneak around the battlefield. She touched Kaiser. If PHO was correct she could only give one person a single power, so I really hoped she hadn't just had a second trigger and was giving him laser eyes or something. He coughed up a little blood and began to float off the ground.

"_No, damn it!"_ I shouted through my bugs because my throat was too ragged to speak. Grue and Regent both tried to waylay him and Armsmaster opened fire, but Kaiser erected thick plates behind him to cover his escape. I launched my creature after him but it wasn't the fastest and Kaiser's new flight speed combined with a head start meant that there was no chance of catching him.

The Tinker grunted and kicked the wall. He tapped his earpiece. "...This is Armsmaster. Kaiser has escaped but we've captured Hookwolf, Menja, Othala, Lung and Oni Lee. We need priority-one medical care for several parahumans."

Piggot's voice crackled through the communicators, filled with static. _"D****tor ***got here. We've rep***** the incursion. Fewer deaths **** expect**. Cu***ntly searching for the jammer, but we're ***sting the signal for now. Sending Pa****a your way. Everyone meet at the Rig for ****ief. **Everyone**. Piggot ***."_

Armsmaster walked over and stooped beside me. He checked Tattletale's pulse before looking to me. "Hopefully this will help," he murmured while injecting me with something. "Is that better?"

The pain began to dull as my perception pulled back, as though I was looking at Armsmaster from the end of a hallway or through a spyglass. I could only nod.

He looked away. "I'm sorry, by the way. For taking your credit. I thought I was doing the right thing." He rubbed his fingers together. "I'm not good at talking to people. It's something I don't want getting out. A dear friend convinced me to apologize. But you need to know, I didn't do it to hurt you."

I didn't get the chance to reply. Before I could bring a voicebug over, he'd already stood and walked to the center of the battlefield, standing guard over the fallen villains. Assault held Battery tightly to him, trying not to cry. Trickster had teleported Sundancer off the spike and he and Ballistic were trying to bandage her gaping wound. Grue, Regent and Imp came over to tend to Tattletale while Bitch just sat with her dogs, who had shrunken back to normal size and were seemingly unharmed. The world swam around me and I struggled to keep awake.

(BREAK)

A few minutes later (at least from my perspective; it could have been significantly less or more), New Wave showed up. Lady Photon was in the lead, tiara shining in the night, looking almost as though she were running interference for her nieces. Glory Girl flew in, carrying Panacea. I'd seen them on the news before, and the girls were different as night and day. Glory Girl was tall and built like a Victoria's Secret model, all blonde hair and lush curves and beautiful face. She pissed off so many girls at Winslow, who were envious that Glory Girl had power _and_ looks. Panacea, on the other hand, was small and meek: short brown hair, dark eyes, and a thoroughly average body. She was pretty enough, but even Lisa was noticeably more attractive than her.

Glory Girl gave a very un-heroic screech when she saw my creation standing guard. "What is that thing!?"

"Stand down," Armsmaster said wearily. "It's on our side." He looked to Panacea, finally holstering his halberd now that the cavalry had arrived. "Thank you for coming. We eked out a win but not without cost. Sundancer of the Travelers is probably in the most immediate danger, with Skitter a close second, then Battery and Miss Militia. Tattletale is unconscious and may need care, and if you're willing I'd like you to give the rest of us a checkup and make sure we're not contaminated in any way. We had some...strange firepower being thrown around."

Panacea said nothing and almost robotically walked over to Sundancer. She placed her hand on the flesh around the blonde's gaping wound and I could see the hole closing. Glory Girl, meanwhile, approached my new beast as if to prove to herself it was real. Once she got within about fifty feet, the giant's entire behavior changed. It released a buzzing hiss and slammed its pincers into the ground, taking an aggressive stance. I seized control before it attacked her outright. Everyone present had turned to see the commotion and I brought a voicebug over. _"He doesn't like you."_ I reached into its mind and felt the cause of its distress. Somehow, Glory Girl was producing a...psychic aura of sorts that it felt was a threat to the...alpha? The queen? I couldn't properly phrase it, but whatever the right term was, it instinctively knew me as its leader and took the teen's presence as a threat. _"Your aura makes him upset."_

She looked around for the source of the voice before her eyes settled on the comparatively little voicebug. "What the hell are you?"

"_A voicebox for the human matchstick to your left,"_ I replied. She looked over and saw the charred lump of flesh that was my body.

"Jesus," she muttered. "What happened to you?"

"_Lung happened. Overall, though, I think I gave better than I got."_ By this point Lung's body had shrunk back down to normal and he looked like those images you see of men who've been attacked with acid. His flesh was twisted and emaciated, one arm entirely missing.

"Jesus," Glory Girl repeated.

I had my newest creation crawl over to where my raptor had fallen. _"Can you check if the little guy over there is breathing? I really hope he didn't get hurt."_

To her credit, Glory Girl actually did walk over and actually reached down to check its pulse. When she couldn't find out where to touch it, she settled for listening and checking for hot breath. "...I'm sorry. I think it's dead."

Despite the pain, I choked out a little sob from my actual mouth.

"Was...was it your pet?"

"_He was so sweet. He was willing to die to protect me. I knew he might, but it still hurts..."_

She hovered over to land next to me. "I'm sorry for your loss." While she was doing a piss-poor job of hiding her disgust at my injuries, the fact that she was making an effort made a difference for me.

She stepped back as Panacea came over. The girl looked me up and down with dead eyes. Panacea looked so broken, so resigned to whatever fate came her way. "Do I have your permission to heal you?"

She was good, I'd give her that. She did an excellent job of faking friendliness, or rather faking any sort of emotion. Were she a real doctor, she'd probably have amazing bedside manner. Unfortunately for her, I was an expert at faking those same emotions and I saw through her. I brought a voicebug to land on my shoulder and focused on manifesting my real voice. "You don't have to."

She blinked. "You mean you're a regenerator?"

"No. I'm just saying, you don't have to. I'll survive. If you don't want to do this, if you're tired of it all, then don't bother with me." I met her gaze with my one good eye. I could see she was about to sputter a protest. "You're hurting. I know. I've faked the same emotions. Whatever's hurting you, you can't just shrug it off and pretend it doesn't exist. I tried and almost got murdered because of it." Glory Girl stared at us both in utter disbelief. "Just because you have a power doesn't mean you're obligated to use it."

Panacea looked completely stunned. Had nobody else really noticed this? "I am obligated to. I can save so many people. If I just stopped, I'd feel like such a horrible person."

"But there's never enough hours in the day," Glory Girl continued Panacea's thought, as though summarizing an oft-stated argument.

What would I have said to myself back then? _Get Sophia with a taser and break her fucking neck, then pin it on E88_. Okay, not useful. What would I have said to myself, back then, if I'd had this girl's problems?

"You're seeing the forest but not the trees."

The sisters both looked at me.

"You're seeing the big picture, how many people are hurt and dying around the world, how many people just here in Brockton Bay, and it feels pointless. But you're not looking at the individual lives you're saving, the difference even a single life can mean to people." I lifted my less-injured left arm. "Hi. I'm Taylor. I was bullied mercilessly by a truly evil person simply for the crime of existing, got powers after nearly dying, and decided to be a hero. Then the war happened. I came here to fight because I couldn't bear to not do something when I had the power. Just like you can't bear not to help with your power. But I don't have the power to protect the entire city, and neither do you. What I can do, however, is promise to do my best to help others. Not because it's a duty, not because it's an obligation that comes with my powers, but because it's the right thing to do." My voicebug fell over dead from too much vibrating. I brought in a new one, which shoved the corpse off my shoulder.

I let it get itself ready, then continued. "You can't save everyone. That shouldn't be your goal. Bad things will always happen. You can do your best to help, but people need to realize you're still human. You can only do so much. You're a person in and of yourself, and you deserve happiness too."

Panacea just stared into my eye for an indeterminate length of time. I really hoped I'd said that right. My speech had rambled and hadn't been as coherent as I'd wanted it to be, but I thought I finished with what I really wanted to say. Finally, she reached out and touched my charred arm. "Oh...oh wow..."

She seemed to get lost in a little dreamland, so I spoke up. Well, my bug did. "What is it?"

"This...is new. My power lets me understand how living biology works. All I have to do is touch you. That's how I know that Sundancer's body absorbs heat energy and uses it to more easily spawn the next sun, which renders her completely fireproof. But you? You're a mystery. I can see what you _are_ – well, kind of what you are – but your biology is full of possibilities. Things that are like the rabbit hole to Wonderland. I just got lost following a single potential trail." She flushed, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. This is just entirely new to me. Look, I don't know how any changes I make will work. I could turn you into a lizard or end up with your brain calcifying. So I'm just going to accelerate your natural regeneration and let your body determine its own course."

She kept her hand on me and I felt my body shifting under her touch. I felt the urge to vomit, my goop bladder – no, _reservoir_, that's what Lisa had called it – roiling. But instead of upchucking, all of that slime absorbed into my body, being converted directly into fuel for my healing. My eye healed and my vision sharpened. I guessed that I'd no longer need my glasses. My scalp regrew skin and I felt more sprouting from it. I was getting back my hair! I felt my muscles tensing and hardening, and my skin growing tougher. I'd be more difficult to put down next time.

Finally Panacea removed her hand, her expression blank. Glory Girl, on the other hand, was a mixture of awe and utter revulsion. "What. The. Fuck!?"

Again, the brunette had turned robot. She stood and walked over to Battery. I looked to Glory Girl. "Um, do you have a mirror?"

She grabbed a particularly shiny shard of Kaiser's metal and held it up to me. I went pale.

The eyes that looked back at me were not my own. My eyes were brown, hazel in some lights. They were now a luminous yellow-orange. What spilled down my shoulders and back was not hair in the normal sense. It was as though someone had taken a hair zoom-in from a shampoo commercial and placed that on my scalp. Hundreds of thick, cool-to-the-touch dreadlocks of...keratin? Chitin? I didn't know. They moved like dreadlocks or braids, rather than the disturbing angular movements of insectoid limbs, and for that I was thankful. I looked down at my exposed arm, rotating it. My muscles were even more pronounced, now the physique of a gymnast or an athlete. But there was something off about my skin. I pressed a finger against my bicep and felt a bizarre sensation. It was as though there was a miniature honeycomb under my skin, providing additional padding and shock absorption. My eyes focused on the fingertip. My nails were now thick, black and sharp. Like claws. I flexed my toes and the scratching I felt confirmed that all twenty nails were alike in that regard.

The blonde was lost for words. Glory Girl stammered for something to say. "I, um..." She looked around a little, then just gave up. "Armsmaster!"

(BREAK)

Armsmaster hadn't said anything as he looked me over. Instead, he assigned a newly healed Battery and Assault to escort me back to the Rig while he contacted my father. I didn't know what exactly was going on, but whatever it was had Armsmaster curious and a little shaken. The Protectorate's leader assured me I'd meet up with the Undersiders at the Rig later for the full debrief, which made me a but less uncomfortable about going alone. I had my new creation follow me there, and really everywhere, mostly because I didn't know its instincts well enough to leave it alone.

On the plus side, the ride back to the Rig allowed me to study the behemoth I'd created. It was huge, easily the dimensions of a mid-size sedan if not larger, carapace colored black with glossy hints of deep blue. Its legs were thick and sturdy, ending in claws reminiscent of my raptor's back feet. It had the beetle plating that opened to expose four massive wings, which beat quickly enough to achieve lift. Its head, however, was the most impressive. Jutting forward from each side of its thorax was an enormous scythe of bone, moveable enough to block some attacks or serve as pincers. A third blade protruded from the armor protecting the top of its head. While last time I had used a dinosaur as the template, this time I had apparently used a supersized beetle. The huge blades reminded me of the mandibles of the hercules beetle. I decided to name this one. Something bigger and stronger than Hercules... I couldn't remember the Greek name for the Hundred-Handed Ones, nor any of their proper names, so I went with the titan who held the world: Atlas.

(BREAK)

If I had any questions about why we'd been moving so slowly on our way to the Rig, they were all answered when I saw my father waiting for him. The heroes let me run to hug him and, while he returned the hug, dad also looked at me with disbelief. Before I could explain things to him, a thoroughly average and forgettable man approached us. "Skitter, Mr. Hebert, I am Deputy Director Renick. Please follow me. Before the general debrief, we have to discuss some things with you."

"Um," I spoke up before I could really form a thought. "...Could we have Miss Militia with us for this meeting?"

He shook his head but his expression was sympathetic. "I'm sorry, but she'll be having a meeting of her own. While I don't personally have a problem, she did kill a cape who didn't have a kill order on his head. Protocol demands that we give her a private debrief and assess the circumstances. Of course, with everything else that's been going on, I'd say it's really a formality." Renick led us to a small, metal-plated room with a little aluminum table. I bristled and he understood why. "I'm sorry for the room. Again, this is just protocol. This is not an interrogation, nor are you under arrest. Um," he took on the expression that many adults got when they wracked their brains to relate to today's young people, "can I get you anything? A Coke or something?"

"Okay," I squeaked.

"I'll take one too," my dad said, "since I figure you don't have beer on hand."

Renick called it in and invited us to sit. "Now, for this interview, do you mind if I call you Taylor?" I shrugged and he continued. "Taylor, have you ever seen this before?" He passed over a square piece of paper with an image on it, sort of like a gothic C or a sideways Omega symbol.

I thought for a moment. "Yeah, I have. I saw it on Newter, one of Faultline's crew."

"Anywhere else? On your own body, perhaps?"

"Wait a minute," dad interjected, "what is this?"

"To be frank, Mr. Hebert, we're not certain yet. Taylor, have you experienced any bouts of memory loss?"

"I don't think so. I was comatose for a week, though."

Renick nodded to himself. "And you can remember your childhood?" I nodded, and he looked pensive. "Are either of you familiar with the term 'Case-53'?"

"The so-called monstrous capes, right?" I asked. "The ones who don't look quite human?"

"Correct. Normally, powers do not affect physical appearance. There are very few documented exceptions to this in typical circumstances – Crawler and the Siberian are the most obvious, but Narwhal and Big Rig, a Tinker working with the Toybox, both increased in height after their trigger events." Renick put the picture back into his pocket. "Case-53s are the exception to the rule. To date, every single Case-53 is found without memories – most times complete wipe of personal memories yet understanding at least one language and a typical variety of skills – but some have early childhood memories or smatterings of memory from different points in their lives. Also, every single Case-53 is noticeably abnormal. This can be as little as different eye color or as noticeable as Newter or Gregor the Snail."

I ran a clawed hand through my new 'hair'. "And you're thinking that, because of this..."

"We are. Our working theory was that, for whatever reason, whoever or whatever creates the Case-53s affected you during your coma."

I couldn't help tensing. "My powers can't be natural?"

"They can be, I admit, but it is a significantly lesser possibility. More importantly, we offer therapy and education options for Case-53 parahumans."

"But only if they join the Wards," I finished the thought for him.

Renick did his best not to lose steam. "Normally, yes. However, you have fought to do the right thing with absolutely no reward. While we can't offer you a position in Arcadia's home-study program, we can put you in touch with a highly acclaimed parahuman therapist and see if we can get her to reduce her rates."

"You people are really bending over backward for Taylor, aren't you? That desperate to get her on your side?" Dad was looking for the catch.

"I won't deny that we would love to have someone with Taylor's level of power in the Protectorate." Renick turned to look at me. "But you made a serious impression on the higher-ups, including me once I read the reports. We're doing this not for Skitter, but for Taylor."

I turned to look at my dad. "I...I won't really have a normal life no matter what, looking like this..." My gaze shifted back to Renick. "Can we think about it and get back to you?"

"Of course," he smiled at us. "But don't leave just yet. We're holding the debrief in Auditorium B. I'll get someone to escort you."

We exited the 'interview' room and followed a PRT officer down a long hallway. Dad looked over to me. "Taylor, what happened out there?"

I winced. "You'll find out soon, dad."


	19. Interlude: Aftermath

**Interlude 2.z**

Director Emily Piggot sighed to herself. Speeches weren't her thing, but someone needed to pass around the attaboys and the ones to traditionally do it were in the audience. Besides, ordinary humans had fought just as hard as the capes in defending PRT headquarters. It would be unfair to them to let someone like Armsmaster congratulate his team and conveniently forget to mention the non-parahuman lives lost. With that in mind, she stepped up to the podium.

"I don't have a speech prepared," she said, looking around the room. PRT uniforms and multicolored costumes blended together, and near the middle was a single man in casual dress, Danny Hebert. Honestly, seeing the PRT and capes together was heartening to her. It helped remind her that people were still people. Yes, parahumans were unpredictable and dangerous, but if she treated them all as abominations, how was she any better than Kaiser and his ilk? That didn't mean she had to _like_ capes, but having something against which to compare helped her keep perspective.

She took another heavy breath, the sound echoing through the speakers. "I didn't have a chance to prepare one. I was in the hallways, trading shots with Empire Eighty-Eight." There were murmurs of confusion from the capes. "I know I'm not in any sort of fighting shape. Haven't been since the Nilbog Incident. But I couldn't live with myself if I cowered in my office while the men and women under my command died in my place." She smiled to herself, gaining steam and figuring out where to take the speech. "That's what tonight was about: the indomitability of the human spirit and the triumph of good over evil. Kaiser thought that we would be easy prey, tired and vulnerable. He thought that parahuman power could overwhelm the ordinary people, force us to bow, just as he thought Aryans could do to the rest of the world. On both counts, he was wrong."

Piggot straightened up, squaring her shoulders and raising her voice. "You could all have run away, declaring this to not be your fight. You could have escaped and left the city to its fate." She took the time to rest her gaze on each of the Undersiders. "Instead you chose to stand for what's right, and you proved the strength of the human spirit. We won tonight because each and every one of you stood your ground to protect others, rather than caring only for yourself. I would especially like to thank the men and women of the PRT. You faced opponents with abilities you could only imagine, unafraid to give your lives to defend the lives of the innocent and helpless. Some of your number did just that, and their sacrifice will not be forgotten.

"Now, to the actual debriefing. Tonight was arguably the most significant and decisive victory the Brockton Bay Protectorate has ever achieved. We successfully apprehended nine dangerous parahumans and have outright crippled the two most powerful gang presences in Brockton Bay. For once, we will no longer be fighting an uphill battle. But we must not let this victory make us complacent, because we will be facing future tests. And while this is a happy night, we've also suffered our own losses. Seventeen members of the PRT died in defense of headquarters, and nineteen more were injured. We will be erecting a memorial for their loss and in commemoration of our achievement.

"Finally, I would like to extend thanks to the parahumans who chose to fight for the city even though they were under no obligation. First, to the mercenary organization known colloquially as Faultline's Crew: Faultline, Newter, Gregor the Snail, Labyrinth and Spitfire. Your defense of others went above and beyond the terms of your contract and for that you have our thanks. Second, to the rogue group known as the Undersiders: Grue, Tattletale, Hellhound–" Piggot heard a scoffing snort. "Regent and Skitter. You have been helping to protect Brockton Bay for more than two weeks. I would like to welcome all of you to the Rig, and to let you know that while you're here, you can consider yourselves to have temporary amnesty. Feel free to make use of the cafeteria or the bunks."

Piggot did her best to step down from the podium without wheezing. Her body was suffering the effects of her willingness to fight. She kept her composure until she was offstage and out of view, at which point two PRT officers helped walk her to her office. She settled in at her desk and started writing the report she'd submit to the Chief Director. _Fuck you, Becky_, Piggot smirked to herself as she shamelessly included her hiring of Faultline and recruitment of the Undersiders.

(BREAK)

_Prejudiced against capes. Wants to focus accolades on PRT rather than Protectorate. Genuinely thankful to us. Reason? Our willingness to fight on behalf of others?_ Tattletale had barely listened to the speech, instead focusing on the nebulous aspects of the PRT director's attitude. _Called us rogue group rather than villains, openly admitted to hiring Faultline's Crew. Middle-finger to national Protectorate for refusing to help. Outside capes reinforced bigotry, local capes challenged it. Shifting us-vs-them mindset. Exploitable?_

The blonde looked around for Skitter. While she was in the corner with the rest of the Undersiders – a voluntary positioning since Bitch wanted to stick with her dogs and avoid other people – Skitter had been shuffled off by herself. Tattletale managed to spot Danny's head bobbing above most of the crowd. And those strange dreadlocks beside him, yes, that was Taylor's new hair.

_This is all thanks to them_, she thought with a smile. If it hadn't been for Taylor's moral compass, they might not be here right now. More likely, the Undersiders would have taken cover and Kaiser would be hanging swastika flags on the Rig.

Taylor never ceased to tug at Lisa's heartstrings. The girl had serious denial issues with her power, even now. She continually teetered on the brink of suicidal tendencies whenever she was forced to recognize what was happening to her body. Taylor was a survivor above all else, even if she hadn't survived for herself. If not for her dedication to family, reluctance to cause her father any pain, she would likely have taken her own life long ago. She was an expert at pushing down negative emotions, sometimes convincing even herself that her pain didn't exist.

_She can't deny these most recent changes_. Tattletale couldn't get a good enough look at Skitter through the crowd to assess the newest alterations, but Imp had given her a decent description. It was worrisome to say the least; if Taylor couldn't make herself ignore her changes, she might fall into self-loathing or worse. More interesting than the physical, at least to Tattletale, was the mental. The speech Skitter had given to Panacea sounded like a cut-price version of one of Lisa's own speeches, picking out individual quirks and driving to the heart of weaknesses. The difference was that, while Tattletale used her speeches more like Hannibal Lecter (that is, to torment and weaken), Skitter seemed geared to uplift.

_Maybe that's more because of her family, though_. Lisa had, of course, seen the photos of Annette around the Hebert household. She'd always had a kind, gentle smile in those pictures and looked like the sort of person who could make everything better with a hug. That kind of automatic acceptance had been passed on to Taylor and amplified to superhuman levels by her powers. _I don't think she even realizes she's doing it_, Tattletale thought. Skitter had done everything right to get Bitch to trust her, but none of it ever registered as having been planned. From establishing dominance and then immediately asserting pack unity – appealing to the canine aspect of Bitch's brain – to simply accepting her as she was and not trying to force her to change – appealing to Rachel's human heart – Taylor had probably become Bitch's closest friend entirely by accident. Of course, with Bitch, the term 'friend' had to be used rather loosely. Danny had made just as much of a difference, following Taylor's lead and accepting the girl with no strings attached. An adult not trying to change her must have seemed like bullshit to Rachel at first, but neither Hebert had ever shown an ulterior motive. _Funny how Skitter's better at manipulating people without even meaning to than most people are when trying their hardest_. To be honest with herself, Tattletale had to admit that she too had been caught in Taylor's unintentional web. It was funny how the girl was so genuine to everyone except herself. Her desperation for friendship and acceptance caused her to wear her heart on her sleeve and it was difficult not to care for her.

Even if Lisa hadn't come to care for the gawky girl, she still would have gone out of her way to be Taylor's friend for the sole reason that the girl was powerful and had the potential to become even more so. Without people to help ground her and remind her that not everyone was out to hurt or take advantage of her, Taylor could easily become another Nilbog as the former brunette so feared she might. After all, Mannequin had been a good man driven to madness and now he was one of the parahuman community's bogeymen. And his power was nowhere near as potentially destructive as Skitter's.

Skitter was... Skitter was standing right in front of her, wearing a little generic domino mask since her own mask – and much of her costume – had been destroyed by Lung's fire. "C'mon, guys," the lanky girl said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, "let's go home. We have a lot to discuss."

(BREAK)

With the crisis averted, Thomas Calvert was finally able to clock out for the night, exiting the PRT headquarters and driving home. At least, that's what people expected. While his destination was in the general area of his home, it was much more significant to him.

As he drove, he considered how much danger had been averted and what that meant for his plans. The PRT was stronger than ever which, while preferable to a Nazi-controlled Bay, was still bad for him. Greater stability meant that it would be more difficult to insinuate himself and his catspaws into positions of power, and only so much could be done by manipulating events from the outside.

Were Calvert more whimsical, he might have likened himself to Batman as he drove his car through the secret entrance to his headquarters. The abandoned warehouse was owned by a shell company, so he would never have to worry about relocating. One of the thick slabs of concrete floor rose up and revealed a ramp, which wound through its own reinforced tunnel before leading to the rear of his sanctum. The room was little more than a small garage with a wardrobe for switching the clothes of his civilian identity with the uniform of his villain alter-ego. He quickly got changed into his costume with a speed that came from rote. Now firmly ensconced in his Coil persona, he picked up his phone. "Trickster, you and the Travelers take time to rest. I need to check with my advisor before we debrief and discuss further plans."

A false wall panel slid open and Coil stepped into his office. He pushed the intercom. "Penschotte, make sure our little guest is ready for a visit. I need to discuss tonight's events."

Coil steepled his fingers, slipping into his own thoughts. The alternative timeline where he forbade the Undersiders from intervening had resulted in them pulling away, resulting in an even greater net loss with the Undersiders and Skitter directly opposed to him. Skitter in particular was a problem. The girl was powerful, incredibly so if Miss Militia's debriefing was accurate, and she was therefore infinitely preferable as an asset than as an enemy. But she was a bad influence on his little group of villains, providing a moral compass. Official reports were now even referring to them as rogues!

Perhaps, though, he could leverage this. If he couldn't slink in as easily as he had originally planned, then he could focus on destabilization from a different angle. Kaiser had been pushed to the brink because another group of villains had proven they could enforce order in the city better than E88 could, and without the ethnic cleansing that an Empire-controlled Bay would entail. What if Coil were to make the same gambit? Turn the Undersiders into an independent hero team like New Wave and leverage their influence and public goodwill to create friction with the established order. The old guard would fight back, losing public support due to malicious politicking rather than focusing on the greater good. Then Thomas Calvert could arrive, offering a happy compromise between the PRT and the Undersiders.

The plan was sound. Now he just had to check if it had a good chance of working. As if on cue, his door slid open to reveal little Dinah Alcott and her handler. Coil grinned beneath his helmet. "Hello, pet."

(BREAK)

Amy Dallon had done her best to keep her emotions hidden away. She had healed the other heroes, not saying anything more than the requisite, "Do I have your permission to heal you?" She had kept herself robotic, doing such a good job of shutting off her emotions that she barely felt the visceral thrill of Vicky's aura when her sister embraced her for liftoff. Throughout their flight, Vicky had acted genuinely confused as to why Amy had shut down. Could she not see? Did she really not know that Amy was the daughter of a villain, or that their mother barely tolerated her?

Actually, she probably didn't. Amy loved Vicky – in every sense of the emotion – but even she would admit the blonde was rather narcissistic. The girl was almost entirely focused on herself. In truth, it shouldn't have been any surprise to Amy that her sister hadn't noticed their mother's treatment of the brunette, nor that Victoria had no idea that Amy was descended from evil. That was Vicky in a nutshell, really – a self-focused Pollyanna pin-up model. And Amy couldn't help but love her.

More than ever, Amy forced herself to focus on that love as her emotions muscled their way back into her mind. Her self-loathing was greater than it ever had been. This was not the first time she'd hated her powers; in fact, she spent most of the time hating her powers. Hating the responsibility placed on her head, the burden of healing, the guilt whenever she wanted to rest. Other people wanted to live, and she was a horrible person for wanting to relax while burn victims were suffering and cancer patients resigned themselves to their fate. Moreover, Amy hated the fact that her powers came from a legacy of evil. Every time she touched someone, she could see little tweaks she could make to their minds. It would be so easy to make her sister just as passionate for her, so simple to make her mother slavishly devoted to her rather than abusive in her standoffishness.

It would be even easier to sever a brainstem, to render someone a quadriplegic or to just kill them outright. And there was always that little urge in the back of her mind telling her to try it, just to find out how it felt.

No-one had the right to play god, especially not a fuck-up like her.

Tonight had been the worst night in her memory. Because it had been the first time in so long that she'd been able to _hope_. Skitter, Taylor, had somehow seen right through her. From how she talked, the pain in her one good eye, Taylor had a history of self-hatred as well. All of the possibilities within her genetic code, how easily she could become an inhuman beast like Crawler, it was easy to see why she would despise herself. But Taylor had talked, laid everything out and reminded Amy that she deserved a life of her own.

And then Amy had to go and prove why she didn't deserve that. She hadn't meant to change the girl, only to heal her. But even then, with all her focus, her mind had wandered and she'd started to mutate Taylor without even realizing she'd been doing it. Worse still, she couldn't reverse it. Somehow that had become the girl's natural state and trying to undo would have opened even more possibilities for nightmarish alterations.

As she sat on her bed, looking at the open pair of scissors, Amy could no longer deny it. She was a monster playing at being a person. She had to take a stand before she fell any further. Amy held the blade over her wrist, hand shaking. She could do it. One deep slice and then she could just fall asleep. She had to do it. Amy gritted her teeth.

She moved her wrist away. Panacea let out a grunt of frustration and sorrow as she realized guilt wouldn't let her end her life. She would be denying healing to so many people. She threw the scissors across the room with a snarl and curled up on the bed. Even now she couldn't stop rationalizing, inventing reasons why she needed to keep on living. She was a coward as well as a monster.

Amy cried herself to sleep.

(BREAK)

"Keep running, you fuck!"

"Hey, eat me! You're a runner and you're black! Sue me if I can't keep up!"

Sophia Hess looked back to Lara, whose surnamed she hadn't learned and didn't care to. "I'm not gonna hang back with you and get arrested again," she sneered.

"Oh come on," Lara muttered, leaning against a tree to catch her breath. "I don't think they're even still following us. It's been almost a day." She continued forward, though at this point her run was more of a lurching stagger. "Besides, you couldn't have escaped without me. You fucking owe me."

Sophia was surprisingly easy to manipulate. Insist that she was weak or prey and, so long as you could survive the beating she'd deliver, you had her wrapped around your finger. Of course, this would probably only last until they were back in what was familiar territory to Sophia, but until then Lara would exploit it for all it was worth.

Sure enough... "Fine," the athlete huffed. "Let's get a little further, then we'll find somewhere to rest. Pussy." Sophia wouldn't admit it but she was on her last legs as well.

"Why...why do you even want to go back to the Bay? You're a fuckin' criminal. Wouldn't it be easier to just go somewhere else?" Lara couldn't help it; now that Sophia had agreed to rest, she was staggering from tree to tree as her strength left her.

"Because Taylor fucking Hebert is not going to win. I'm gonna put that little cunt in her place and make sure she stays there. She's weak, she's _prey_, and she thinks she's better than me?" Sophia's voice was savage, boiling over with hate. "If I have to, I'll kill the bitch."


	20. Adaptation 01

**Adaptation 3.01**

Breathe in. Breathe out.

In. Out.

My clawed fingers flexed rhythmically on my knees. My thick, ropey hair brushed my shoulders and shuddered from the shuttle's vibrations. I once again noticed my mutant body, the disgusting state I was in. My breath hitched in my throat.

_Four, seven, eight_. I'd read that that was the ideal time for a relaxing breath. Inhale four seconds, hold for seven, exhale slowly for eight. Repeat. I shut my eyes tight and extended my mind, forcing it out of my body. I couldn't stand to be in that hellhole, to see the hideous changes. My bugs crawled and flew around. I didn't need to control; I just needed to _feel_. To be reminded that there was so much more than me and my problems. My mind touched Atlas.

My stress started to wick away. Atlas, somehow, was my rock. He gave me strength. He was my protector.

I startled as my father hugged me tight. My luminous eyes snapped open and I barely withheld a yelp. No, no, I couldn't have him pulling me back into the present, into the body I was so desperately trying to ignore. I could not withhold, however, the whimper that passed my lips. I shrank into myself and away from my dad; I couldn't help it, no matter how guilty I felt about it. He didn't need this. Dad was trying so hard to deal with everything. I choked down a surge of vomit.

Brian reached across the aisle to me but Lisa gently gripped his arm. I was thankful to her, but I couldn't offer her a smile.

The shuttle dropped us off at the travel agency. Dad took my hand and led me to the car. I must have seemed catatonic as he had to sit me down and buckle me in before starting the engine. Atlas landed beside us, getting some rest before we kept moving. Atlas saw Rachel lead the dogs out of the shuttle, starting their growth. After nearly a minute they were large enough to ride: Brian and Aisha climbed on Angelica, Lisa and Alec on Judas, and Rachel took the lead on Brutus.

We led the parade down the street, dad and my body in the lead, the Undersiders following behind, and Atlas – with my mind hitching a ride – flying above the dogs. After about ten minutes' drive, we reached our neighborhood and Brian threw up his darkness so we could park in peace. Dad must have thought ahead, as he pulled into the garage on one side so that Atlas could scuttle inside and rest his weary wings.

I let Atlas close his eyes and settle down. He'd had a big day. Dad opened the door on my side and tried to help me up, but apparently my body was denser than it had been and he couldn't pull me up by himself. He continued diligently until Brian and Rachel helped him. They lifted me up like a rag doll and carried me into my room.

Atlas finally fell asleep and I let him slip away before realizing that this meant my mind would return fully to my body. I tensed as I regained consciousness, eyes refocusing. Brian smiled as he met my gaze, thinking that this was a happy occasion. His joy in the moment was painful, and I couldn't help it. I started screaming. My eyes opened wide, glassy and unfocused as I shrieked endlessly. I flopped on the bed, wailing and clawing at my face, wanting to destroy myself. In the cruelest twist of fate, my claws slipped back into my fingertips and prevented me from tearing open my face.

As they had for Alec at Dr. Q's clinic, Brian and Rachel grabbed my arms and restrained me. The first instinct I had was to bite at them, to summon up a swarm to cripple them and help to end my life. But I couldn't do that to them, couldn't hurt my friends.

God damn it all.

God damn the world, for being so fucked-up. For taking my mother from me, for breaking my childhood friend's mind, for turning me into a monster.

God damn my father for loving me even as I mutated and making me regret wanting to end my life, for actually making the effort to reconnect with me rather than slipping away and giving me further reason to destroy myself.

God damn the Undersiders for accepting me as I was, for giving me hope and being my friends, because now I couldn't bring myself to fight them.

And, more than anything. God damn me. It was my fault that mom died. If I hadn't been texting her, hadn't needed her to comfort such a weak daughter, she'd still be alive. I let Emma drift away. It was my fault Sophia got her claws in her, my fault she went crazy. It was my fault dad was so stressed, my fault for being so pathetic that I let three bullies destroy my life. I couldn't even help Panacea. A monster like me trying to make her feel better? My entire existence was a cruel joke.

My screams gradually faded into choking sobs. I was too exhausted to try to fight them off as they piled around me, offering me comfort. I shouldn't have been surprised; I'd never really had control over anything. It was all just an illusion, a prank I pulled on myself. I was nothing.

"You're wrong."

My eyes snapped open as Lisa spoke. Could she read my mind? My glowing orbs turned to her.

"You're thinking that you're a monster, a burden on us all, and everyone would be better off if you were dead." Not exactly, but that was an approximation. "You're wrong." She gently took my left hand, while Rachel continued to hold down my arm, and began to pet my palm. "You helped us win. You helped protect the city. You gave the people hope." Lisa hadn't broken eye contact with me. "You gave _us_ hope."

"Warm fuzzies all around," Alec quipped as he sat on the edge of the bed and toyed with my Alexandria action figure. "But seriously, you're awesome. You're fun to hang out with and you deal with my shit."

Lisa gave him a pointed look.

The brunet groaned. "Lisa, do I have to do this?" He received a reply in the form of Lisa's glare intensifying. Alec sighed and continued.

"Fine. Shit. Alec Merceau isn't my real name; I ripped it off of _Prototype_." He blinked as Aisha suddenly appeared and swiped the toy. "My birth name is Jean-Paul Vasil. My dad is Niko Vasil, Heartbreaker."

I was shocked but too near-catatonic to respond. Dad gasped for me. We'd read the stories of Heartbreaker enslaving women to use as his personal breeding stock, wanting his own army of second-generation parahumans, and then Vasil had just vanished off the map.

"Every day, my father would subject me to emotional and physical torture, trying to force me and my siblings to trigger." He looked over to the blonde. "Dammit, Lisa, I wasn't ready to tell everybody. Why do I have to do the whole kumbaya shit?"

"Because I'll break my foot off in your ass if you don't," Lisa replied simply.

Alec clearly didn't understand, but Lisa had given us no reason not to trust her advice. "Look, I dealt with all that shit, and I got away. I'm a dick, and I'm scarred from it all, but I survived. You can too."

Aisha poked him with Alexandria's fist. "You kinda suck at the whole pep-talk thing."

Alec play-swiped at her. "Kiss my pale Quebecois ass, Imp." He looked back over to me. "Besides, Taylor, you look badass. Like some sort of kinky goth pin-up girl. I'd do you."

My father snapped his head over to look at Alec. "First off, touch my daughter and I'll kill you. Second, aren't you, like, fourteen?"

"Screw you, old man. I turn seventeen in April. I can't help it if I'm kinda scrawny."

Damn them all. They were tempting me to smile. Lisa petted my forehead, passing her hand over my hair-tendrils. "We're all here for you, Taylor, like you've been here for us."

Dad leaned over and kissed my forehead. "You'll always be my baby girl, Taylor, no matter what you look like." He hugged me close. "You'll never be a monster. You're too much like your mother, little owl."

I whimpered, a burst of air passing my lips. I started crying again and hugged him tight. Why did he have to remind me of mom? Why did he use my childhood nickname? Why did I have to love him so much?

Through teary eyes, I saw Lisa usher everybody else out. Aisha kept my toy.

Once they'd left, dad tucked me in and laid beside me. I looked over at him, wiping my eyes. "How are you so sure? Why aren't you afraid?"

"The very fact that you're so worried about being a monster is proof to me that you're not. You could have hurt us all with your claws or your bugs, but you didn't. You care about us all, and monsters don't have those kinds of feelings." He smiled a tiny smile and kissed the tip of my nose. "You can't let yourself get consumed by guilt. You shouldn't fear yourself." He hugged me tight. "Take your time to deal with this, but don't shut us out. We need you, kiddo."

I let myself fall asleep in his arms.

(BREAK)

I awoke to the smell of eggs and bacon, finding myself ravenously hungry. The gray PRT jumpsuit that they'd given me to replace my burned-up costume was itchy now that I was conscious enough to feel it. I ignored my growling stomach for the moment and changed into some regular clothes. I couldn't help but chuckle to myself at the irony when the first pair of underwear I pulled out of the drawer had Armsmaster's picture on them. Regardless, I stepped into them and slipped on a pair of sweatpants, leaving my claw-nailed feet exposed. I really wanted to try wearing a t-shirt, so I grabbed a pair of scissors in case I had to widen the collar. Sure enough, the extra mass on my head wouldn't fit, so I had to snip open some of the front. I resolved to get more v-necks in the future.

Once I was fully dressed, I stepped out and walked to the kitchen where I found Brian cooking breakfast.

"Morning, Taylor." Aisha walked by, eating an ice cream bar. Why hadn't dad stopped her? We had rules, after–

"Oh hey, Taylor," Brian said. He wasn't tiptoeing around me, making me feel weak and fragile. Lisa must've let him know I wouldn't appreciate that. "I didn't know when you'd wake up, so I'll make your omelette next. Danny told me how you like it."

I nodded, swallowing hard. I needed to be strong. Not just for dad, not just for my friends, but for myself. I pulled up a stool at the counter and looked around. Dad waved at me from the living room table, where he and Alec were playing poker, while Lisa and Rachel played rope-toy with the dogs.

Aisha popped up beside me with a bowl of cantaloupe. She held up a fork. "Want some?" I shrugged and accepted. It was strange, being so freakish but being treated as normal. I instinctively wanted to deny it, to say I didn't deserve it, but I refused to do that. I _was_ strong, I _was_ a good person. I could do this. It would be long and difficult, but I could push past this. I just needed to focus on accepting myself.

Brian plated up my omelette and passed it to me. "Here you go, Taylor. Enjoy," he shot me a smile.

I took a bite and couldn't help making a happy sound. Ham, cheese, green pepper, a little bit of onion... It was just as good as dad would make. "This is fantastic," I muttered between bites.

"Oh," dad spoke up, "I also have some tea steeping for you."

Brian nodded in realization and poured me a cup.

Lisa let go her end of the rope toy and Judas pranced around triumphantly before Angelica and Brutus pounced him. The blonde came over to sit beside me. "So I've stared at you enough to get a basic idea. Do you want to know?"

_No_. "...Yeah." _Idiot_.

"Okay." She poked my arm. "The biggest thing is this honeycomb structure beneath your skin. It's situated between the dermis and muscle. Not only does the framework," she increased the pressure on my bicep, "distribute blunt trauma to reduce physical impact, but the holes are filled with a heat-absorbent substance. This basically gives your skin a much higher melting point. Outside of powers or tech, you're pretty much fireproof." She held up a finger. "That doesn't mean fire won't hurt, but just that it won't tear you apart."

"Lovely," I deadpanned.

"Also, your musculoskeletal structure has been further reinforced. You're probably just shy of a Brute rating at this point, and with your new musculature distributing weight throughout your body, you'll have a much harder time straining yourself or getting a charlie horse." She batted one of my hairs. "As for those? I don't really know. They seem to serve no purpose except to imitate hair. Your eyes give you enhanced vision and night vision. And your claws are durable _and_ retractable, so you don't accidentally cut yourself or others. I think your toenails can do the same, so you should be able to wear shoes."

"Thinker powers are bullshit," Alec muttered as he laid down his cards, "which is why I never play poker with Lisa. Straight flush."

"Little bastard," dad grumped and re-shuffled the cards.

I took a deep breath. "Okay, I have to ask: how are you all okay with this? I still have to push down on my emotions not to just have a panic attack, while you're sitting around all la-di-da."

"Because you're not that weird," Brian replied, sitting on the other side of Aisha. "Gregor the Snail is obese, slimy, covered in snail shells, and barfs up all sorts of chemicals. Lung's a psycho who turns into a dragon. Glastig Uaine steals the powers of dead capes and thinks she's some sort of fairy. And Jack fuckin' Slash, who looks as normal as everybody else, is one of the most twisted son-of-a-bitches in the world." He smiled and reached around Aisha to squeeze my shoulder. "So, you looking a little weird? That's not a problem."

"So what's the plan for the future, anyway?" Alec was now playing war with my dad.

"When the lockdown lifts, we go see my shelters," Rachel spoke up.

"And the lockdown should be over in a few days," Brian added. "Last supply drop is later this afternoon. But I think Alec was more asking in the long-term." He looked over to Lisa.

By this time, I'd come to understand the group dynamic of the Undersiders. Brian was the leader, the charismatic one who helped settle disputes and keep everyone working together. Rachel had originally joined the team because she really had nowhere else to go, but she'd come to accept the group as her pack. Alec and Aisha were pretty much with the group sheerly "for the lulz." But Lisa was the core of the Undersiders. Without her mind and ability to plan, they wouldn't have been anywhere near as successful as they had. And Brian was a confident enough leader that he was willing to admit his weaknesses.

Lisa took a heavy breath. "Well, I've pretty much used up my power for a while, but I have some ideas already. First off, we've built up a lot of goodwill. In fact, we might even be able to leverage that to be a hero group."

"The fuck!?" Alec and Rachel spoke up at the same time.

"Oh shut up," Lisa replied smoothly. "Think about it: is the extra money worth having to always run away from the good guys?" She turned to face the two darker-haired teens. "As an independent hero group, we could set our own rules, accept donations from the public. We already don't kill, so what do we really lose by hunting baddies exclusively?"

"Independent team, huh? Good, because there's no way I'd join the Wards," I spoke up. "They had Shadow Stalker on their team; who knows who else are psychos?"

"And we're not?" Alec asked indignantly.

"Well, you might be psychos, but you're not _evil_."

"Okay, okay, bring it back," Lisa smirked. "So, does anybody have a reason not to start a hero group?"

"We're criminals," Rachel grunted.

"We saved the Protectorate's lives," I interjected. "I bet we can leverage that into pardons"

"Be nice to not have to worry about them shutting down my shelters."

"You could probably even get funding for them and trustworthy people to help with the dogs," I continued, pressing the argument.

"...Okay. If we can get help with the dogs, I'm in."

We all looked over to Alec, who looked back. Dad used his distraction to cheat and swap some cards. I didn't bother to speak up.

The brunet shrugged. "It _is_ easier to get fangirls if you're legal... Fine, if you can get us pardons and all that shit, I'll go along with it."

My father leaned back. "Now, all this planning is all well and good, but we're overlooking something pretty big: school. Now, Brian has his GED and Lisa's been cheating her way through college courses–" he ducked a balled-up napkin, "but the rest of you, if you go legit, will have to deal with school."

"No, no, no," Rachel growled. "Fuck that noise."

A crackling noise caused me to pull back my hands. There were some slight indentations from where I'd been gripping the linoleum counter. "I..." I couldn't even voice my concerns.

"Look," dad said as he stood, "I'm good with negotiations and Lisa could serve as our trump card. Arcadia and Immaculata would be willing to help you all out, and Arcadia of course is good with capes. Rachel, I'm sure we could work something out." He walked over and stooped beside Rachel. "I'll do my best to help. You can trust me."

If looks could kill... Actually, considering Rachel's power, a look _could_ kill if one of the dogs picked up on the source of her distress. I was ready to leap away from the counter, though I wasn't certain if I could intercept. But Rachel didn't attack, didn't even answer. She just looked away, a sour expression on her face.

Lisa hugged me around the waist. "Taylor, I get why you're worried. But New Wave goes to Arcadia too. If people don't stare at Victoria Dallon everywhere she goes, I doubt they'll give you too much trouble."

"But what about a secret identity? I mean, I can't exactly hide."

Lisa flicked my hair. "Didn't you just hear me, Taylor? New Wave are known to the public by their real names. But we all play the game and pretend we don't really know who they are." She smirked. "After all, the Protectorate knows who Kaiser really is, but they can't act on that knowledge without violating the truce. And we _need_ that truce to help fight back against threats like the Endbringers. So if the villains don't hunt down Panacea, they won't come after you."

I rested my face in my hands. "I need to think about it. I...I need time."

"Speaking of time," Brian said, "it's about time for the supply drop. I figure you want to stay inside for today, right?" I nodded in reply. "Then, Bitch, we'll need you to guard the drop today."

Rachel looked immensely thankful to get away from the thoughts my dad had put in her head, and went to get suited up.

I just sighed. "I'm gonna go lay down for a while."


	21. Adaptation 02

**Adaptation 3.02**

"Good mooooorning!"

"Mphvg," I grunted as I pulled the covers over my head. My determination to not be disturbed was stymied when I was pounced. "Lisa, what the hell!?"

The blonde bounced atop me like an excited kitten. "Lockdown's up! Get off your skinny ass and come help us move the furniture back!"

"I hate you so much," I grumbled as she tugged the blanket off of me. I rolled out of bed and stretched, feeling my hair brush all the way down to my tailbone. "Y'know, all this weird shit...sometimes I think it's all a fever dream and I'm still in the locker, or comatose in the hospital..."

"It is," Lisa replied in a ghostly monotone, like a disembodied voice. Her eyes stared ahead, unfocused and blank. "And you need to wake up."

I yelped, springing up on reflex and bonking my head on the ceiling. Lisa burst out laughing.

"Oh my god, I can't believe you fell for that! Nice air, by the way." She strode over and offered me a hand up.

I reached up and grabbed her wrist, tugging with my enhanced strength and yanking her into my lap. I restrained her with one arm while I gave her a noogie. "You ass! You really scared me!"

"Regret! Regret! Seriously, Taylor, let up! You're hurting!" Upon release, she sat upright and rubbed her head, wincing. "Christ, Bugs, felt like you were drilling for oil or something."

I could only give a blush and awkward shrug in reply.

She leaned back against me, visibly more relaxed. "Y'know, when you're not almost breaking my skull by accident, you're pretty cool. There's so much about you I don't know and can't figure out. And while that's frustrating, it's also nice. It feels so sterile to just _know_ so much about people. Takes some of the human element out of friendship."

I looked down at her. "Hey, speaking of not knowing, can I pick your brain for a sec?"

She shrug-nodded, turning a little to look at me better. "Shoot."

"Well, it's something that was on my mind last night. When I was...in the locker, the bugs were fucking eating me. But in the hospital, apparently I didn't have any bug bites _or_ major infections you'd expect from a biohazard like that. And then, when I got home, I could, well, absorb bugs into myself and learn about them. But now? I can't." I demonstrated by calling over a fly to land on my palm. "See? I'm focusing on how it felt as best I can, and nothing."

Lisa nodded to herself. "Okay, I'll admit, that's weird. I don't think I've heard of a power suddenly turning itself off. Unless that was somehow an aspect of your power that your body finds no longer necessary?"

Aisha wandered in and walked right past us, climbing into my bed and tucking herself in. Christ, did that girl have no concept of–

I tilted my head at Lisa. "Yeah, I'm not following."

"Well," she expounded, "it seems to me like you've got two basic sides to your power: Master, which lets you control the bugs and make your new critters; and, let's call it Breaker, which adapts your body over time." The blonde crawled out of my lap and sat facing me. "Powers interact in interesting ways. Some people, when they trigger, seem to 'ping' off of other nearby capes and somehow develop an extra power outside their normal package, in response to the external stimuli."

"Now I'm _really_ not following. Like, so much so that you're in the mountains and I'm on a boat in the Pacific."

Lisa huffed. "I'm _saying_ that you were probably only ever 'supposed' to be a Master. But Shadow Stalker is primarily a Breaker, and she was right there, _and_ she was one of the ones tormenting you. You 'pinged' off her and your body developed a Breaker power of its own, to help you survive the biohazard. Your body absorbed the bugs to protect you, and then let you absorb more so you could better understand how they work." She finished with a shrug. "At least, that's the theory I'm working with. There are too many variables to determine the cause with any certainty, but considering Glory Girl seems to have an emotional aura and triggered when she was with Gallant, the king of emotions, it's at least a hypothesis with some evidence to support it."

I connected the dots in my head. "Okay, I think I get it, but what do you mean 'supposed to be a Master'?"

"Well, nobody really understands the nature of powers, but your story in particular led me to question the conventional wisdom. Like, people say, 'Physical trauma, physical power', and the same for mental, but that doesn't really make sense. While I'm not gonna spill Brian's trigger without his permission, suffice it to say that a Striker or Brute power would have made much more sense if we're going with that theory." Lisa pointed at me. "Likewise, you had a mental trigger. But you _didn't_ trigger when your mom died, and I suspect that was much more scarring than the locker incident."

"Okay..." It was starting to come together. "So what does that mean?" I looked down at my claws.

"Well, I'm starting to suspect that we have the cause and effect reversed. Scientists think that the trigger event causes the powers. But what if it's the powers that determine the trigger event needed, and then our bodies work from there?" She poked me between the eyebrows. "Like, your power is based on control, so it needed a trigger where you desperately wanted control. Because of the bugs causing problems, you get bug control. The breaker bonus was based around healing and survival, likewise, because you wanted to live."

I just blinked. "Holy shit."

"Yeah."

I looked over my shoulder to see who'd said that. Brian and my father were standing in the doorway. Dad smiled at me. "Imagine my surprise when I came to see what was taking so long and got a lecture on parahumans."

"Seriously, Lisa," Brian continued, "you should be in academic papers!"

She blushed a little, thankful for the praise. From the way she acted, I suspected that most of her deductions on this topic came from her brain rather than use of her power. That gave her every reason to feel flattered. "Problem is," she said, "you need solid evidence for that kind of thing and there's very little – if any at all – when it comes to powers. I published my theories once, but nobody paid any attention because I didn't cite other scientists or stick to the narrative they're shilling." She frowned. "That was my next career choice, once I found out somebody with my power would totally get arrested for insider trading."

"You'd make a fantastic researcher," he said before walking over to my bed and tugging the covers off Aisha. How'd she gotten there? He continued talking even as his little sister struggled. "Whether or not we do the whole hero thing, you should share your theories with Piggot. This makes too much sense to _not_ spread the word."

The pieces fell into place and I started laughing. I actually fell back, clutching my stomach as I busted a gut.

"Holy shit," Alec quipped, having wandered over to see the hubbub, "she's turning into the Joker!" Dad slapped him upside the head this time.

I wiped tears from my eyes and propped myself up on an elbow. "Sorry, I just realized something hi-fucking-larious. No matter which way the cause-and-effect goes, Sophia – miss 'Rawr I'm a predator and I'mma kill you!' – got a power designed for _running away_!" I chuckled a little more.

Dad joined in with the laughs. "Okay, that _is_ a riot. Makes all her bullying a lot less traumatic when you realize she's just a coward trying to justify her own failings."

Brian helped me up, grunting as he hauled me to my feet. "Yeah," I smirked in agreement, "it really puts things in perspective. Emma's crazy. Madison has the emotional range of a toddler, or a slice of bacon. And Sophia's nothing but a wimp who picks on those she can get away with hurting." I gave Brian a thank-you hug and walked over to my father. "It hurts a lot less, realizing that. I only ever wanted to be a good person, and maybe this power is the way I can make a difference..." I stopped, my eyes widening in realization. "Ho-ly shit."

"What? Did you figure out the ultimate question? Can you see why kids love Cinnamon Toast Crunch? Have you found a way to grow boobs?" Alec was grinning like an idiot even as my father restrained himself from striking the teen.

"No, I think I understand why I look like this!"

"Beanpole genes passed down from both pare-mrf?" Alec's sentence was cut short as Aisha popped up beside him and stuck a celery stick in his mouth. He blinked at her.

"Well," I opted to continue as though Alec hadn't interrupted yet again, "some part of a cape's power comes from their mental state. Sorry, dad, but I had – still have – really bad problems with self-loathing. I think my physical changes are coming from that."

"Well it's not really working," Brian smirked. "I'm not normally one to agree with Alec, but he's right in this case: you look pretty cool. And kind of exotic."

"Seconded," Lisa grinned.

I couldn't help the blush that went all the way down to my collarbone.

(BREAK)

Rearranging the furniture was interesting. By this point I was about as strong as Brian and my musculature was much less prone to damage, so I was actually taking the lead on much of the heavy lifting. Lisa had opted to organize our books and movies and conscripted Aisha and Alec into shelving while she sorted. As we worked, I did my best to explain Lisa's theory to Rachel.

"So I was always supposed to make things bigger and tougher, and I settled on dogs?"

I nodded as we shoved the sofa into place. "Pretty much."

"That's fuckin' awesome," she smiled as big as she could without exposing her teeth. I smiled back, lips closed of course.

"My question," Brian huffed as he took a break on the couch we'd just moved, "is why you didn't tell us this theory of yours before, Lisa."

"Didn't think you'd care," she answered simply. "Oh, and also, it helps explain why parahuman children tend to have similar powers as their parents."

"Honestly? A while back I wouldn't have given a shit," Alec said as he shelved another section of DVDs. "But after dealing with Taylor's weirdness? All this theory stuff is kinda cool."

"I second that," dad said as he re-hung pictures we'd had to move to make room for the barricades. "Speaking as a normal human, finding out how powers happen makes them less scary and more fascinating."

The phone rang, and dad looked at the living room handset that was currently unplugged. "I'll get it," he said as he walked to the kitchen.

"So," Aisha spoke up, her tone inquisitive, "does that mean Brian and I could've had the same power, except we got it differently?"

Lisa shrugged. "Maybe? This is all guesswork at this point. But it's definitely a possibility. Actually..." She paused in her sorting. "Thinking about it more, there are even more complications. Look at Lady Photon and Brandish. They're sisters, both with light powers, but while Photon got the typical blaster suite, plus forcefields, Brandish got lightsaber knockoffs. And what's weirder are their kids. Laserdream and Shielder seem to have taken entirely after their mom, while Glory Girl's power drifted further toward the physical and gave her an invincibility field."

"Maybe powers are like genes?" Brian offered. "Manpower's was recessive, so their kids got Lady Photon's power set, while Flashbang's was also dominant so...the powers tried to find a middle point?"

"It's as good an idea as any," Lisa shrugged as she got back to sorting.

"Makes sense to me," Rachel grunted.

We all stopped to blink at that.

"What?" she snapped. "Just 'cause I don't know exactly what rr-spesive means doesn't mean I don't get the idea." She ran a hand through her dark-blonde hair. "I'm not the brightest but I'm no shit-tard."

My father chose that moment to come into the room, looking quite conflicted. He sat down on the couch beside Brian. "So, I just got a call from Alan Barnes."

My head whipped in his direction. "You're shitting me." If there was one thing I didn't need, it was one of the hellbitches coming back into my life. Granted, she was the crazy one and her intentions weren't cruel, but that didn't piss me off any less.

"I kid you not. Apparently Emma's been doing her therapy via webcam during the war and her psychiatrist thinks she's well enough to make amends. He invited us to his place tomorrow for lunch."

"That's quick. Lockdown's being lifted as we speak."

Dad gave a little shrug. "To hear him tell it, Emma's been wracked with guilt and is chomping at the bit to at least try to make amends. He doesn't want to wait and risk her sneaking out to try apologizing."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Damn my moral compass. "...Okay. You can call him back and tell him we'll be there. Out of respect for our old friendship, and out of pity that she went nuts, I'll at least listen to what Emma has to say."

"I'd have just left burning dog shit on his porch," Alec added. "Need anybody to come along with you?"

I tapped my chin. "Well, Mr. Barnes is a lawyer so he can be a slippery bastard, and he was a complete diseased vagina back at Winslow... Lisa, could you come with? You can probably see through any bullshit and cut him down to size." I smiled apologetically at the rest of the group. "I'd honestly like to bring you all, but I doubt rich snoots like the Barneses would agree to host that many people."

"Not without doilies and formal invitations," Aisha smirked.

Alec looked scandalized and tugged one of her cornrows. "Asshole! I was gonna say something to that point!"

She, likewise, yanked some of his long hair. "Then speak up quicker next time, Rapunzel!"

"Rapunzel had blonde hair!"

"Is that really what you're going to argue?"

Remembering the technique's effectiveness the last time she used it, Rachel took off her socks and hurled one at each of the bickering teens.

After that, we were somehow all drawn into the carnage. Socks were soon joined by pillows, towels, and for some reason slices of bread.

It was nice to just cut loose and act like dumb kids.

(BREAK)

Of course, dad made us clean up the mess, even though he'd joined in too. Although he called Alan back while we picked up, so maybe we got the better deal.

"So I'm thinking," Brian said as we trashed the last of the bread, "while you and Lisa are with the Barneses, we'll head back to HQ and see if there's anything left standing. With luck, we can take it and some nearby buildings and turn them into kennels for you and Rachel. Your big bug has to be getting cramped in the garage."

"Good idea. And no, not really. But then again Atlas has been asleep a lot. Fighting so soon after being made took a toll on him. I was actually gonna check on him once we got all this cleaned up."

"How'd you come up with the name, anyway?" Aisha asked from her spot on the couch. Of course. She'd probably been loafing the whole time while we'd been tidying the place.

"Well, he's mostly a huge bug, and his pincers," I mimed the blades, wrists at my cheeks, "look like a cross between a hercules beetle and a stag beetle. So I figure, who's tougher than Hercules? Atlas!"

"Oh. I thought you named him after Charles Atlas."

I just blinked. "How do you even know that name?"

"I used to sneak into Brian's room and read his old comics when I wasn't allowed."

Alec snickered. "Good thing you didn't keep a porn stash."

"Oh, he did. I looked at those after I got my power."

Brian looked scandalized. And like he was going to barf. I couldn't blame him.

"And on that note, I'm going to go hang out with the giant mutant bug because he's less weird than you." I marched off to the garage.

Atlas seemed to come to life as I drew near. He blinked his huge, golden eyes and shook himself in what I figured was the insect version of stretching. There wasn't much room to maneuver, but Atlas wasn't as energetic as the raptor had been. He was stoic; the best way to describe him was as my bodyguard.

I crawled onto his back and leaned forward to hug him around what passed for his neck. "Hey, Atlas. How are you?"

He made a soft buzz in his throat that I took to mean contentment. However, I could feel something else from him. I let my power flow through his body instead of simply allowing his...'presence' to rest at the outskirts of my mind, and I realized he was hungry. I spat up a fresh voicebug and had it go ask Lisa to help me figure out what Atlas would eat. I continued cuddling the big lug until Lisa showed up with the rest of the house in tow, having come out of curiosity. Everybody settled in to lean on the car and watch the show.

The blonde paced around Atlas, studying him, before coming back around to the front and sitting on one of his pincers. It easily supported her weight. Atlas blinked at her and she blinked back. "So, in addition to the new eyes, you gave him eyelids?"

"I guess so. Makes sense, so he can protect his eyes."

She nodded. "Well, best I can figure, Atlas doesn't have a digestive system analogous to any insect or arachnid, nor to a mammal. In fact, I can't think of a single thing that he might eat."

I looked down at Atlas. He looked up at me. I could feel those big, soulful eyes boring into mine. "So he's gonna starve?"

"Maybe," she admitted. "Although, while my power might not be giving me anything, that absence of anything also highlights a possibility."

"Ladies and gentlemen, Captain Conundrum!"

As Brian had said earlier, I couldn't believe I was agreeing with Alec. "Much as it hurts my brain, Lise, Alec has a point. The hell are you talking about?"

Lisa's grin threatened to split her face. "Well, my power's giving me nothing. My power _also_ gives me nothing when I look at the goo from your reservoir. Taking into consideration that you probably wouldn't make something this complex without a way to sustain itself, it's very likely that Atlas will feed on your goo."

"Q.E.D.," Alec sniped. "E stands for 'Ew'."

I looked back at Atlas. He looked back at me. I sighed. "So I gotta play mama bird, huh? Shit."

"No, that comes out the other end." This time it was Aisha.

"I'll have him step on you," I threatened as I slid down his above-the-head, helmet, armor, blade...thing. "Brace yourselves, this is probably gonna get gross."

Atlas leaned up, his mouth parts separating. His mouth was really more like grocery-store automatic doors, two plates sliding out two expose a pinkish-gray tunnel. With no teeth or other way to break down food, his mouth gave credence to Lisa's idea. I hoped it turned out to be accurate. Nasty as this was, I didn't want Atlas to die.

I arched my back and leaned over him, opening my throat and expelling the slime. It was getting easier each time, the process now smooth and calm. I could somehow breathe through my nose as I spewed, so I didn't need to pause. I continued until Atlas' body said he was full. "Good boy." I patted his head and he buzzed again.

"No offense, Taylor," Brian spoke up, "but while that was pretty interesting, it was also gross. I'm glad dinner's not for a while"

"Well," I wiped the last of the slime from my mouth and licked my fingers clean, "if we don't have anything else to do, mind helping me brainstorm a little?"

Brian shrugged. "I guess not, but about what?"

"Well, in addition to names for my different bugs, I'd like some help coming up with reparations to demand from Alan Barnes. Bastard's a lawyer, he's rich, and he works at Brandish's law firm. I'm sure we can think of some stuff that's reasonable but also helpful."


	22. Adaptation 03

**A/N:** So I got back from the hospital last night after 12 hours in the ER and other care facilities. Updates might be a little slow for a while.

**Adaptation 3.03**

"Wake up!"

"Gah!" Was this going to become a thing? I flailed as Lisa pounced me again. "Will you stop that!?"

"Can't say," she replied as she tugged my covers off. "For now, I have questions and you're gonna answer them."

I gave her a little push, doing my best to gauge my strength, and succeeded in toppling her off the bed. "Then let me get dressed. I'll meet you in the living room."

Lisa exited, albeit reluctantly, and left me to decide what to wear. Much as I didn't want to admit it, I did still yearn for Emma's approval in a way. In the weeks since I'd figured out she was mentally unwell, I'd started to see Emma as two different my people: pre-trigger and post-trigger. The pre-trigger was my friend, a sweet and loyal girl who, while spoiled and a little misguided in her priorities, was always kindhearted. Perhaps it was that same spoiling which left her wanting something more out of her life, made her susceptible to Sophia's mindset after her trigger event. Post-trigger Emma was a monster, yes, but the more I thought about it the more I understood that it was all with good intentions. If anything, however, that made her actions more abhorrent. I couldn't help wondering which Emma would be waiting for me. If she had somehow returned to her pre-trigger mindset, perhaps we really could be friends again. Were she still post-trigger Emma...it would be difficult not to act on my instincts.

I realized that I'd been standing in front of my dresser, drawer open, just lost in thought. I shook my head and selected a blue v-neck blouse, a button-up overshirt, and a pair of jeans. I stretched and trudged out to the living room and was greeted by the bleary-eyed Undersiders. "Morning," I murmured.

"Ooh," Aisha smirked, "fancy. Got a hot date with Miss Psycho?"

I shuddered. "Seriously?"

Rachel grunted. "Even I'm grossed-out by that."

"Moving along before I puke," I said as I poured myself a bowl of cereal, "Lisa had some questions and I figured you should all be here to hear it." I plopped down on the couch. "So, what's on your mind, Blondie?"

Lisa sat down opposite me. "Well, you haven't really told us about Emma or Alan. I'd like an overview of them before we go, so I know what to expect."

Dad chuckled. "Well, that's nice and specific." He looked to me. "Should I start, about Alan?" I nodded in reply and he took in a breath. "Alan and I met at college. He was studying law, hoping to enroll at Harvard or Brown after graduation; I was in business administration. We never had that much in common, but we just...bonded. We hung out together in our spare time, went to the same parties. I think the big thing was that we both wanted to help the city. Even back then, Brockton Bay wasn't doing so well. Anyplace with dockside warehouses tends to attract gangs and druggies, and here was no different."

My father leaned back and sighed. "I met Annette when she transferred from her old campus following Lustrum's riots. I think seeing the hatred moved her from feminist to egalitarian, and we also bonded over improving the city. Anne wanted to teach, help uplift the people, while I wanted to uplift the businesses.

"When Alan came back from Brown, he was a bit different. He'd decided to focus on divorce law and favored making money over fixing up the city. I didn't really blame him, since I'd gotten roped into leading the Dockworkers' Union, and you can all see how well that's worked out." Dad gave a mirthless laugh. "We kept in contact and would reminisce about the old days, and I was so happy when Taylor and Emma made friends. But somehow...I never saw any of what happened..." He looked down, staring into his coffee.

I took over. "Emma was my best friend, so much so that we were practically joined at the hip. We played together, followed the same trends...she was as important to me as dad when mom died. I'm not sure I could've made it through without her. Emma was always there for me, not judging me for anything I needed to do, like when I had to just cry for about two weeks straight..." I paused to take a few bites. "Dad paid for me to take a summer retreat at a horse ranch, to just leave for a while and forget my problems. When I came back, though, Emma was totally different. Sophia was her new best friend and she was suddenly one of the most popular girls in school." I groaned. "Emma was always pretty, but she preferred to stay out of the cliques so she could be with me. But now she was more concerned with climbing the social ladder. And with making my life hell..."

"So why don't we just kill 'em?"

"I'm finding it hard to disagree with Rachel here," Lisa said, "but I guess we can't massacre them if we want to stick to the whole hero group plan. So, what are–"

Brian cut her off. "You can ask her in the car. By my watch, it's about time for you to go, and we should scout our old headquarters."

"I call the bathroom first," Alec piped up and jogged off to change.

I rested my hand on Brian's shoulder. "You be careful."

(BREAK)

"So mind if I ask more questions?" Lisa asked once we were buckled in.

"It's gonna be a bit of a drive," dad admitted. "Go ahead."

"Okay. What are Emma's interests? Anything I can exploit?"

I chuckled. Lisa was always looking for an advantage. "Well, she's always been a clothes horse, and she does modeling these days. She also likes to paint. She's no prodigy, but she tries to emulate Monet. Or she used to, at least..."

Lisa pulled me into a hug. We drove the rest of the way in silence.

(BREAK)

Dad walked in the lead, Lisa bringing up the rear. She kept just close enough behind me that I couldn't stop, couldn't let my nerves get the best of me. I bit my lip and couldn't repress a shudder. Every last instinct told me to run, to put all this behind me and just hide. But I couldn't do that to myself. If I chickened out here, how could I ever trust myself to fight against threats like the Slaughterhouse 9 or the Endbringers?

We fanned out at the front door, dad and I in front and Lisa behind us. He rang the doorbell.

Alan Barnes opened the door, a cautious smile on his face. His eyes then settled on me and his expression twisted. Disgust curled his mouth, warring with his screwed-on smile and creating a sickening mutant expression. He recovered quickly, no doubt from practice as an attorney, and addressed us. "Danny, Taylor, I'm glad you could make it. And, ah, who's your friend?"

In her button-up shirt, khakis and a pair of fake glasses, Lisa looked like our own legal badger. "Lisa Wilbourn," she said simply, her tone cold and professional.

Alan quirked a brow and I had to fight hard not to smirk. She already had him on the defensive. "Please come in, then."

Emma waited in the hallway, more subdued than I'd seen her in two years. She wore a simple red blouse and loose pants, and barely looked at me. "Hi, Taylor," she said quietly. "I'm glad to see you again." I could practically see the guilt and regret rolling off her in waves.

Alan led us to the living room and invited us to sit. Before he could even speak, however, Emma cut him off. "Dad? Could you leave us for a moment? I have some things to discuss with Taylor in private." At his concerned look, Emma gave him her patented pout. "Please."

After he was out of earshot, Emma's expression grew serious. "Taylor, Lisa, there's someone else here." She pointed at the empty seat beside us.

"Ugh, really?"

I blinked as I realized Aisha was in the chair. "The hell are you doing here?" I looked back to Emma. "And how did you know?"

Brian's little sister folded her arms and sulked. "I came to spy on you and prank Richie Rich if she or Daddy Warbucks gave you shit."

Lisa gaped. "Those aren't even from the same story! And how did you even learn about those characters?"

Aisha shrugged. "I asked Alec for some good insults."

"Of course," Lisa facepalmed.

I turned back to Emma. "This is Aisha, another friend of mine. She was supposed to go with my other friends, but she makes it her job to be annoying. So, how'd you know she was here?"

Emma shrugged. "I could see her shining. Or, well, I could see the lack of her shine. It's like, I could see the lens flare around her, but there was a person-shaped hole in the middle."

Lisa blinked. "Okay, that's at least a Thinker 1. You'd be really useful for PRT Master/Stranger protocols."

Emma nodded. "So what's your power, Lisa?"

"I'm not in the mood to say at the moment," the blonde replied with a smirk.

The redhead called her father back in and Alan sat down. Aisha vanished again, just so we didn't have to deal with that headache, and again Alan gave me the evil eye. I met his gaze.

When I was younger, I would have been frightened of him. His size, his wealth, the fact that he was my dad's friend and my own friend's father. Now, I sneered at him. "If you've got a problem with me, Alan, say it to my face instead of trying to hide your disgust." I tossed my hair for emphasis.

"Alright, I'll say it directly: what happened to you?"

"I survived," I replied simply. "I lived through things that would have killed anyone else. I don't understand why, but in healing I ended up like this."

"Mr. Barnes," Lisa interjected, "I was under the impression that this meeting was for Emma and Taylor's benefit. Perhaps we should allow your daughter to speak, rather than you antagonizing Taylor."

Alan frowned but looked to Emma.

The redhead smiled cautiously. "Taylor, I need to apologize to you. For everything." She leaned forward, wanting to reach out to me but restraining herself. "I lost myself. I..." She whimpered. "I felt so weak compared to you, that I didn't deserve you as a friend. I knew I couldn't recover the way you did. For the first time, I thought that I was lucky...I never knew my mother, so I didn't have to suffer her loss like you did..."

I couldn't help it. I snarled at her. My vision became brighter, and I would later learn that my eyes glowed more intensely. "So you admired me so much you decided to torture me for two years? Thank you so much!"

"I was confused! I'll admit it, I was broken! I wasn't strong enough to endure my trigger event, so I latched onto someone who _was_ strong. If you'd been here, I probably would've latched onto you." She cut me off as I was getting ready to shout again. "No, I'm not blaming you for not being here. I'd still have been unhinged and things probably would still have gone bad. I knew...I knew you were still hurting and Sophia's words made so much sense. I wanted to help you transcend your pain and, when I realized you could trigger as well, I made the connection that parahumans could survive suffering that normal people couldn't."

"I don't think that's entirely accurate," Lisa commented.

"Of course it's not," Emma agreed, "but at the time I thought it was. I really believed that, if Taylor triggered, she could free herself from her pain and be happy again. I didn't think it through, didn't bother to realize that it meant I'd be torturing Taylor until she broke." Emma again reached for me, not pulling away this time. I didn't move to meet her, but neither did I shun her. She took my hand, looking into my eyes. "Taylor, I know I'm still fucked-up in the head. I'm slowly dealing with these things, handling my attraction to you and learning about my powers while getting counseling for my trigger event. I've made so many mistakes and I need to make up for them. So I asked you over because you're the person I hurt the most. I want your opinion on what I should do. How can I start to make things right?"

"Give me a moment to confer with my advisor," I said in my best professional voice. Lisa followed me as I stood and walked to the front door. I lowered my voice, using the few bugs in the Barnes house to make sure we weren't followed. "So what do we have so far?"

"Emma's repentance seems genuine. She's told the truth about everything so far. Wants to make amends and try her best to balance out her bad karma. She knows how bad she hurt you. On the other hand, I'm pretty certain she's still crazy enough that, if you told her to kill herself, she'd do it."

"What do you think we should recommend?"

Lisa shrugged. "Personally, I think she'd get the most help in the Wards. We'd also be offering Piggot an olive branch of sorts, finally making up for having cost her Shadow Stalker. Emma might not be a fighter but that sort of Thinker power is very useful."

"And Alan? What's his damage?"

"Some sort of anti-parahuman bigotry. He's fighting to not see his own daughter as a monster, and sees you as proof of whatever problem he has with capes."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Wonderful. Well, when we get done with Emma, I want you to lean on him hard. We want him to use his connections with Carol Dallon to try and get us pardons, work on special-needs schooling for Rachel, all that good stuff."

Lisa studied me, probably getting a read on my other intentions, then nodded. "Sure. Shall we?"

We went back into the living room and retook our seats.

I leaned forward. "Emma, I've thought it over and I think you would do the most good – and the most good could be done for you – in the Wards. I recommend you ask to see Miss Militia. She'll treat you fairly."

The redhead boggled. "You really think I could be a hero?"

"The PRT agents have absolutely no powers, and they still go up against deadly capes," Lisa smiled. "You don't need powers to be a hero; you just need the moral fortitude and the courage to do what's right, and the humility to know when you're wrong. With some training to keep yourself safe in the field, you could be a great intelligence asset."

Emma nodded, then looked at me. "Did you join the Wards, Taylor?"

I shook my head. "My problem with the Protectorate is that they're mired in laws and protocol. For such a huge organization, those laws are vital, but they also result in a lot of problems at the individual level. I'm working on founding an independent hero group to do what the Protectorate can't. And no, I don't think it's a good idea for you to join us."

Lisa stepped in, leaning forward in time with my leaning back. "Mr. Barnes, over the phone you also expressed a desire to make amends for your actions. If that still holds true, I have ways that you can wipe away your debt to the Heberts." She stood and invited him to follow her to the dining room, having already figured out the first floor's layout. Alan followed her in confusion, still at a disadvantage. Good.

Once he was out of earshot, Emma looked to me. "Are those bugs yours, Taylor?"

I blinked and realized she meant the few houseflies still at the entrance to the living room, which would have been barely visible from where she was seated even if they were ten times their size. "Um, yes. How did you notice them?"

"They glow a little, too. It's much more muted, but they have your same...color?" She huffed. "It's hard to explain. It's like a sixth sense, and I'm slowly figuring out that everybody's glow is slightly different. It's...as I experience it, I'm learning that it's not really even a glow so much as a presence that radiates from you. I experience it through my eyes so it registers as shining, but it's not actually through my sight, because I can't see the parahuman shine through TV."

Dad smiled. "It's so nice to see you two talking again. I'm sorry I've been so quiet; it's been everything I could do not to just deck Alan while he was sitting there."

Emma nodded to him. "I'm upset with him too. He never noticed what should have been an obvious change in my personality. Dr. Yamada says that, even though learned changes like that are gradual, it should've still been obvious when I was behaving in a totally different way after a few months."

"I'm really proud of you, Emma," I said with a genuine smile. "It's so wonderful to hear you admitting you were wrong and taking responsibility for what you did. I've been sitting here thinking that maybe, after you've gotten more therapy, maybe I can have my friend back."

She beamed at me. "I'd love that. All of this has put things into perspective for me. Even if I wasn't a cape, having done all those horrible things would still make me want to atone. I'd probably be volunteering at soup kitchens and that kind of thing. But if I can be a hero, make a real difference in the world, that would make me so happy." She paused, the gears in her head turning. "Hey, Wards give speeches to students sometimes, right? Maybe...maybe I could write my own speech about bullying. I don't want other people to get hurt like I hurt you, Taylor..."

I could tell she wanted a hug. When she was upset, she's shift around and dip her left shoulder a little. I opened my arms as an invitation. Emma pounced me, though thankfully it wasn't in a romantic way this time. She clung to me, crying a little. I held her close. She wasn't quite the Emma I used to know, but she was working on becoming herself again. I wanted to encourage that, to help her smother the evil person who'd taken over her body.

After a few minutes of me just holding Emma, Lisa and Alan came back. Lisa had a manila folder that she'd obviously made Alan get, and it was full of papers. "Alright, we've drawn up the preliminary agreements, in duplicate. Alan, don't forget to contact me each step of the way."

Alan Barnes' expression was that of a defeated general. Contempt and defeat played across his face in equal measure, and I knew we had him by the balls. Repentant or not, Alan had been of sound mind every step of the way. I found it much easier to forgive a groveling Emma, who had been arguably insane, than the son-of-a-bitch who was so eager to throw his old friend under a bus.

I looked at Alan and couldn't keep the snideness out of my voice. "Pleasure doing business with you." I gave Emma one last squeeze and let her go. To her credit, she only clung for a second or two before remembering her manners and therapy and prying herself off me. I offered my arm to Lisa and the two of us walked out in lockstep.

Dad followed behind, and I was close enough that I didn't need my bugs to listen in. "Alan, if you betray us again, you won't have to worry about Taylor. I'll kill you myself."

Neither Barnes raised a single word of protest. I think they knew he was telling the truth.

(BREAK)

"Alright," I said once we'd driven a sufficient distance for the mood to calm, "what did you get out of Alan?"

Lisa smirked and opened the folder. "Contracts for legal counsel with Dallon, Lawrence & Maksim. Confidentiality agreements, as well. I can call tomorrow to arrange a meeting, where we can get their backing for things like emancipation, official name changes, special education and petitions for legal pardon."

"The pardons aren't a sure thing, though," dad pointed out.

"Rarely is anything ever a sure thing, Danny, but considering our contribution in the war, we can get Piggot and Miss Militia – probably Armsmaster too – to back us up. The mayor would have to be a fool not to add his voice in support, and then we can get the PRT to drop whatever charges they have. It's almost impossible that they'd refuse an offer to get more heroes on the streets." She looked over to me. "How are you holding up, Taylor?"

I smiled at them both. "Honestly? A lot better than I thought I would be. I wasn't lying when I said I was proud of Emma. She's really trying to be a better person and I'm happy to help her with that."

"And I didn't even have to crank the pranks," Aisha said from the front passenger's seat. "Lisa fuckin' obliterated that guy enough that anything I did wouldn't matter."

I turned to grin at the blonde. "Okay, when we get back home, you're telling me all about that!"


	23. Interlude: Intrigue

**Interlude 3.x**

Grue, Regent and Bitch rode down the partly-ruined streets, all three of them atop Judas. It had been Grue's idea to only take one dog, just to cut down on any attention they might draw. Then again, even one monster-dog was one too many for stealth purposes, but it was worth a try.

Despite the fact that it had been nearly a month since he'd last visited Undersiders HQ, Judas remembered the way, quickly finding landmarks to orient himself so that Bitch barely needed to steer him.

As they approached, the Undersiders saw that relocation had been a good idea. While the building itself hadn't been bombed, one of the first-floor walls had been knocked out by an adjacent explosion. "Cripes," Regent said as they dismounted, "let's hope the deadbolt held."

It, of course, had not. The second-floor door had been battered down and the headquarters looted. While the furniture was untouched, everything else had been taken. Regent dropped to his knees in the common room, pulling a full _Platoon_ in front of the couch, because his Playstation had been stolen.

Bitch immediately ran to her room. "Fuck me! It's all gone!" Every last squeaky toy and stuffed animal was gone. The dark blonde walked around her bed, touching the spots where she had once arranged the plush critters to help her feel safe at night. She stalked back into the common room, eyes blazing. "If we find out who did this, I am _killing_ them."

Grue heard none of this, his mind elsewhere as he stared into Tattletale's room. "Guys? You should come see this!"

While Lisa's room had been scavenged of anything valuable, the red-string conspiracy wall was untouched. "Whoa," Regent murmured as he joined Grue, "it's like something out of a movie." He walked closer and began examining individual pushpins. Some were photos or newspaper clippings, others were post-its or random scraps of paper with illegible scribbles on them.

Bitch elbowed him aside. "What's it say?"

Grue answered before Regent could snark back. "I'm not sure. Anything in her handwriting is some sort of code, so it's nonsense to us. But these other ones are so random they might as well be in code, too. Mayoral candidate debate postponed; Triumph promoted to the Protectorate; Über and Leet's last show..."

"Yeah, yeah," she waved him off. "You're focused on the details. Look." She tapped her finger on the centermost pushpin, a single image of an albino snake. "Coil."

(BREAK)

He paced back and forth atop the platform – the _dais_ – and surveyed his new crop. The city was his, now, and these were his legions. The Nazis were crippled, Lung was on his way to the Birdcage, and the Protectorate would be too busy guarding the construction crews. His army would lay low, consolidating power, and slowly devour the entire city.

Skidmark grinned. "You are all here because you lost," he said in his best 'evil overlord' voice. "If we'd wanted to, we could've just slaughtered you and gotten back to our lives. But, in our benevolence," again he was glad Squealer had suggested he grab a thesaurus when preparing this speech, "we're offering you a second chance."

He spread his arms and was thankful the guys working the lights hadn't fallen asleep or snuck off to shoot up. The entire warehouse lit up, allowing the captives (recruits, as Skidmark called them) to properly see one another. "Welcome to Thunderdome! Rules are simple: You knock somebody out or render them unable to fight, you get a point. You kill someone, you get two points. But kills only count against people who're still upright. You execute somebody on the ground, you get nothing but the warm fuzzies in your gut." Skidmark snapped his fingers and the heavy doors behind him opened up. "Highest points get to join the Merchants. Everybody else is fucked. And until you're done fighting, you don't get out. The room's electrified, so you'll turn to melted shit if you try climbing out." And on that note, he exited and the doors slammed shut behind him.

It was only a short walk to the prefab they'd liberated from Winslow. Skidmark stepped inside, flopping down on the couch beside Squealer and eagerly groping her. She giggled and shimmied closer to his attentions, eyes never leaving her computer. "Cameras are up and tracking, Skids. We'll get a running tally of points."

"And that's why you're the shit, babe," Skidmark grinned. "I figure anybody who gets at least ten points is a shoo-in."

Mush spoke up through some mutant sloppy joe sandwich, smacking his lips noisily between bites. "I still say we should've had killers get the dead ones' points."

"And that's why I'm the leader and you're not, dipshit. That'd just encourage everybody to go after the best killers, so the toughest guys'd die and we'd be left with the sloppy seconds."

"Plus," Squealer added, "this way everybody's more frantic. Less time to strategize means more mental stress, means greater chance of trigger events." She reached back and began fiddling with Skidmark's zipper.

"And what happens if we get a cape who's stronger than you, Skids? Somebody who takes leadership?" Mush looked at the leader with his yellowed eyes, peering through filth-dreadlocked hair. For reasons none of the Merchants had ever understood, Mush reveled in the wretchedness of the homeless stereotype. He was unwashed, covered in grime, wearing piles of coats, trash bags and other assorted sundries all heaped on his back, the weight causing him to perpetually slump forward.

"Even if they're stronger than me, they won't be smarter than me," Skidmark replied with a confident grin. "Now shut up and come watch the fun." He pointed at the screen. "Right now, my money's on Hong Kong Phooey over here," he indicated a wiry Asian fighter using his martial arts defensively, focused on survival more than glory, "or, uh... Squeals, what's a good nickname for a big fuckin' Nazi?"

"Übermensch?" At her boyfriend's confused look, she rolled her eyes. "Means Over-Man; basically the closest you can get to a cape without being a cape. It's what the Nazis are trying to breed."

"Yeah, Oobermunch." Skidmark indicated a colossus of a man, dark-haired and fair-skinned, who was forgoing style in favor of simply breaking his opponents' limbs. "No, no, I got it! He's Ivan fuckin' Drago!" The lead Merchant cackled at the new title, attempting to imitate Dolph Lundgren's accent. "I must break you."

Mush rolled his eyes. "Fine. Fifty bucks on Drago."

Then the camera feeds erupted in blinding light before cutting out.

Squealer slapped her computer a couple of times. "...The fuck?"

A massive impact tore the entire structure off its supports, sending it flipping end over end several times until the walls gave out and the whole thing collapsed in a pile.

Skidmark was the first to pull himself free, having wrapped his body in forcefields to reduce the overall damage. He was still bruised and bleeding, however, as he was unable to layer the fields as he normally would. The moment he wrenched free into the overcast daylight, he was rendered blind and deaf, as though he'd been sucked into some sort of void. Skidmark looked around in shock, trying to orient himself, and then was laid out by a right hook to the jaw. He saw an undulating black cloud and some creepy fuck in a porcelain mask before electricity surged through him and his conscious brain shut down.

Mush rolled his eyes as he heard Skidmark go down. The arrogant little fuck deserved to be taken down a peg. While he would freely admit that he was a terrible leader and shit at planning ahead, Mush was a master of self-preservation. The entire broken prefab rose up, surrounding the superhobo and forming his typical spherical armor. He shifted pieces around, positioning broken wood and metal to turn himself into a sort of giant sea urchin.

Of course, giant sea urchin or not, it made no difference to the fleshy tank that crashed through his armor and seized him in its jaws. The beast was almost ready to bite him in half when Squealer tore herself free of the pile.

_Huh_. Even through his pain, Mush had to blink at that. He'd accidentally pulled Squealer into his sphere. The tinker pulled some sort of ramshackle pistol and took aim, but her arm suddenly spasmed and her shot went wide. A sharp command caused the monster to hurl Mush into Squealer, and they too were tased.

Regent looked at the Merchants' leaders, laid out on the ground. "That...was a lot easier than I thought it would be."

Grue shrugged. "Skidmark's delusional. He probably thought the Merchants were powerful enough to take over Brockton Bay."

"Fucking moron," Bitch said simply. She then looked over when Judas perked up his ears. "Something's coming."

"Probably one of Squealer's cars," Grue commented. "I'd bet she has something set up for rescues. Think Judas is up for knocking that thing over, too?"

Before the dirty-blonde girl could answer, the three parahumans were awash in pain, gripping their heads and dropping to their knees. The Undersiders were in no condition to stop Squealer's rescue car as it came screaming down the street, but neither were the non-powered Merchants willing to risk Judas to deal with the Undersiders. They loaded up Skidmark and company and took off for shelter.

Inside the warehouse, a young Korean girl gasped for breath, her mind still reeling from the visions of two massive entities.

(BREAK)

Dragon smiled through the screen at Colin. "Y'know, since the two biggest gangs are down, maybe you can take some more time for sleep? It's not healthy for you to run on such little rest."

Armsmaster returned her smile. "I plan to. I just want to get this program finished, which is why I wanted your opinion. It's my Endbringer-alert algorithm."

"Oh yeah? You're that close to being finished? How are you compensating for Simurgh appearances?"

"That's the hard part," Colin admitted. "The others are simpler, just looking for irregular weather patterns. For the Simurgh, I've been thinking of satellite-imaging programs to take periodic shots of major cities." He sighed. "That's the problem, though: foreign governments – especially China – aren't exactly rolling out the red carpet to have their satellites carry an American-made program." He looked over to her. "Could you help me with that? Program some backdoors?"

Dragon shook her head, her red ringlets bouncing with the motion. "Colin, that's too close to breaking international law for my comfort. If it were to be traced back to me..." She shuddered. "However, as Hannah might say, if I were to accidentally leave some of my files open for access and they happened to contain information that you could use...well, that would just be carelessness on my part, wouldn't it?" She gave him an impish grin.

Colin beamed back at her and nodded.


	24. Adaptation 04

**Adaptation 3.04**

It's amazing what can happen in a month. Stores can re-open, government can return to business as usual, and people can convince themselves that life is normal again.

It hadn't even been thirty days since the lockdown was lifted and already the city was recovering. I felt horrible for thinking it, but the war was probably the best thing to happen to Brockton Bay in decades. The widespread destruction followed by the defeat of Empire Eighty-Eight and the all-but-complete dissolution of the ABB had brought together the ordinary citizens of the Bay, creating a newfound sense of kinship and unity.

Dad was almost always gone during the day but this time I was happy for it: he'd successfully petitioned the mayor to let the Dockworkers' Union spearhead the revitalization project. For the first time in memory, a dying organization stuck to a floating metal graveyard had new life breathed into it in the form of public-works projects. The unemployed were invited to work for minimum wage and the junkies left in the wake of gang collapse (those not snapped up by the Merchants, anyway) were offered a second chance at life from any of the numerous recovery clinics that had opened in the hardest-hit areas. I could look out at the city and feel a sense of genuine pride.

Of course, we hadn't been idle either. After Lisa had been forced to explain her conspiracy wall to the others, we all swore an oath that we wouldn't reveal our newfound knowledge or otherwise tip our collective hand before we were ready to act. Everyone being on the same page helped us to plan more cohesively, however, and we gladly exploited any of our 'anonymous' backer's various spheres of influence to get ourselves established as heroes. Apparently Coil had seen opportunity in having a hero team under his thumb and was only too happy to help us on our way. With his slimy influence on one side and New Wave's legal team on the other, with Lisa's brain holding everything together, we were well on our way to official pardons.

Lisa had suggested that, until we were legally in the clear, we keep our heads down and avoid cape fights. Rachel wasn't happy with that development since we still hadn't found out who had taken her stuffed animals. I got her a big plush cerberus, however, and squeakies for her three favorite dogs, and that did a lot to calm her down. She now slept with it in her arms every night.

While we didn't want to deal with cape fights, that didn't mean we sat around with our thumbs up our collective ass. Rachel frequented her shelters and made sure the dogs were being taken care of. Brian and Aisha faced larger problems with their legal battle, since Brian no longer had a home of his own. Add to that the fact that Brockton Bay had been a warzone until recently and it was understandably difficult to convince the social workers to even come down and visit. My own difficulty was more comical: since Atlas was a living thing, I couldn't just leave him parked in the garage for a month. So I had to take him on walks. The neighborhood had gotten used to seeing Skitter, in the PRT standard-issue jumpsuit and domino mask, riding the enormous beetle around the street before taking to the air to stretch his wings. Even I had to laugh at the absurdity sometimes.

What was most surprising, however, was that Emma began coming over. She still wasn't completely back to her old self, but she knew this and didn't expect for us to go back to how we'd been before my mother died. Instead, Emma was working to start fresh and was focused on reestablishing our friendship from the ground up. I doubted she could ever be my best friend again: no amount of mental gymnastics could remove the fact that it'd been her face sneering at me, taunting and abusing me. I might not be able to forget, but I could forgive, and so long as Emma could settle for being a basic friend (and control any other urges: I caught her eyeing me several times) I saw no reason why this arrangement couldn't work.

Alan Barnes, of course, stayed far the fuck away and with good reason. By now he'd figured out that I could kill him without even trying and that dad was – consciously or not – looking for an excuse to fuck him up, so he gave us all a wide berth. Add to that his suspicions that my other friends also had powers and he didn't dare cross us. Before, I might have taken a perverse pleasure in his fear; now, however, he was so far beneath my concerns. Alan Barnes was just a petty man lost in personal achievements, while I was focused on uplifting the entire city. It was a wonderful feeling, to know I was following in my parents' footsteps.

Of course, life wasn't all gumdrops and ice cream in Brockton Bay. The Merchants were still the kings of petty crime and other groups were attempting to fill in the gaps left by the dethroned gangs. Über and Leet were active again, causing random trouble throughout the private sector and mostly acting like idiots. According to Lisa, the Teeth – a gang that had been nearly annihilated by Empire Eighty-Eight decades ago – had been poking the area, hoping to reclaim the city in which they had originally formed. For now, we could leave these threats to the established and sponsored heroes while we worked on getting our collective act together.

While the wheels of bureaucracy ground slowly, we passed the time by dealing with our next major challenge: branding.

"For the umpteenth time," Lisa huffed, "I'm sorry. We don't have to do much in the way of transitioning, but I just don't think people will be willing to refer to you as Bitch. You'll get no end of harassment from the PC crusaders and you won't be able to just sic the dogs on them like we'd all want you to."

Rachel folded her arms, her glare simultaneously sub-zero and molten in its intensity.

"Look, Tattletale isn't exactly marketable either, so I'm changing my cape name to Foresight."

The dirty-blonde's expression was unchanged.

"Dammit, Rachel, this is for the dogs!"

That finally got her and the stocky girl groaned. "Fuck it all...fine. What did you have in mind? And if you say Hellhound I'm feeding you to Angelica."

"How about Fenris?" At Rachel's confused look, Lisa elaborated. "He's the Norse wolf who's supposed to end the world by killing Odin and eating the sun."

"Yeah, like that's PC," Rachel snickered.

"She's got a point," Alec spoke up from the peanut gallery.

"You're not helping!" Lisa just let her head drop into her hands. I decided to come to her rescue.

"...What about Cerberus?" Everyone turned to look at me and, even after all this time, I still couldn't help my blush. "You usually use three dogs, Cerberus has three heads, and Cerberus guards the Underworld. Since we're the Undersiders and will probably be protecting the city's underbelly..."

"Please, please find a way to incorporate 'underwear' into that argument," Aisha piped up.

Rachel looked at the big plushie on the table. "...I can live with Cerberus."

I gave her a wide smile. "I'm glad. If it were just up to us we'd all be happy to stick with Bitch and Tattletale, but sadly we have to deal with the public if we want to make it as heroes."

"But in exchange," Brian said as he walked into the room, can of soda in hand, "we get public funding, support from other hero groups, and clean records." He sat down on the couch. "And, more specifically, you can get help with your shelters and I can get custody of Aisha."

Rachel just grumbled.

"More good news that you probably won't like," I smirked, "is that dad's been emailing back and forth with Principal Corwell of Arcadia. Once you and Alec are pardoned and can be legally entered in the system, there are spots in the school waiting for you. And Rachel, you'll have one-on-one tutoring from a teacher who supposedly won't bullshit you or treat you like a moron." I didn't duck fast enough and got whacked with a shoe.

"I really fucking hate you sometimes, Taylor," she growled.

I just smiled back, rubbing my head. "Yeah, but you know I only do this stuff to help you. You're one of my best friends, Rachel."

She fell silent at that and opted to grab her plushie and pretend the rest of us weren't there.

Alec, obviously feeling that not enough attention had been paid to him, shifted the conversation. "And my name change? I take it that's also in the 'after the pardons come through' pile?"

Lisa nodded. "Yeah. You can't legally change your name while there's a warrant out for you, but in another week or so that shouldn't be a factor."

"Thank fuckin' christ. The less connection I have to that cesspit of a family, the better."

"On the subject of Arcadia..." Brian looked at me. "How are you going to deal with school? You know people are going to talk."

"Ooh, ooh!" Aisha bounced in her seat. "She's gonna go the pod-people route and spawn a meat puppet to go to school for her, then it'll eat other girls and process them so she can grow boobs!"

I couldn't even dignify that with a response, so I just pinched the bridge of my nose. I addressed Brian instead. "Honestly? I'm just going to wing it. Arcadia's a fresh start and, like Lisa said a while back, New Wave goes there too. I know I stand out a little, but I'm used to being eyeballed and talked about behind my back. At least this time there'll be more of a chance for the whispers to be curious instead of abusive."

"Way to bring down the room, Hebert," Alec chuckled as the conversation grew somber.

I was immensely thankful when my bugs gave me an excuse to change the subject. "Mail's here."

Lisa got up to go and retrieve it. Until I was ready to deal with the fallout and the stares, Taylor Hebert would not leave the house or be seen by the general public. Aisha started whistling something like elevator music while we waited, and Alec soon joined her in a duet. I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"The good news keeps on coming," Lisa called as she reentered the house and held up one letter in particular. "It's from the state supreme court. My guess before even opening it is that they're summoning us for our official pardons." She flung it to Brian. "Letter's addressed to Rachel, so either they're being assholes or they just never bothered to use their brains. You're the leader; you do the honors."

Brian was surprisingly delicate as he ripped open the envelope, his expression of curiosity gradually morphing into a grin. "You're right! The state's been authorized to hold a hearing for our pardons tomorrow, not only for the Undersiders but for Rachel and Alec, aka Jean-Paul, in their civvy identities as well."

"A hearing?" I tilted my head. "Does this mean we'll still need to argue our case?"

"Probably just a formality," he reassured me. "I doubt they'd let it get this far if they still wanted us to prove why we should be pardoned."

"He's got a point, but we should still be ready. If there's a particularly belligerent judge or if the legal system wants to jerk us around some more, we'll have to keep a cool head," Lisa said with a little frown. "Some anti-cape bigot might try to bait us into getting angry so they can keep us firmly in the 'bad guy' category."

"Think we'll need dad for this?"

Surprisingly, Rachel answered me. "Not a good idea. They already know Alec and me. Your dad comes along, somebody's sure to figure out you're Skitter before you're ready for them to know, and you can always count on the system to fuck you over."

We all stopped to blink at that. While Rachel was by no means stupid, neither strategy nor human nature were her strong suits. She shrugged. "What? Happened to me."

"Fair point," I said as I stood up. "I'm gonna start prepping for dinner. We can have a nice meal, tell dad the good news, and then get some much-needed rest before the big day tomorrow."

(BREAK)

Brockton Bay was rather like Chicago in many ways, and that wasn't just counting the frigid, open-water winters and the rampant corruption. In this case, it was because the Bay was often mistaken for the state capital while the real capital was significantly smaller and less important. Still, the capital housed the major governmental locales, including the state supreme court.

Our summons was for 1 PM, so we had to get started relatively early. On the positive side, this meant I got to bid dad goodbye as he headed off to work. On the negative, we had four long hours of travel in the chilly, rainy early-April weather to look forward to. As none of us owned a car, we opted to take our various monsters out for a spin. Despite the potential seriousness of the court date, I couldn't help giggling like a schoolgirl every time someone did a double-take at the three massive dog-beasts or the enormous mutant beetle careening down the street.

Bitch (soon to be Cerberus) rode in the lead, astride Angelica, while Brutus carried Grue and Imp and Judas brought up the rear with Regent and Foresight. I'd need to get used to the new monikers. I sat cross-legged on Atlas' thorax, calmly adjusting his trajectory so I didn't slip off. I figured I'd need to build a saddle for him in actual combat situations, but for now his natural stability and my power made flying a breeze.

While the trip was relatively unpleasant, I couldn't shake the excitement and had to restrain myself from bouncing on Atlas' back as we rode into town. I was going to be a hero. Moreover, my friends were going to be heroes with me.

(BREAK)

My excitement turned quickly to apprehension as we approached the capital building. A PRT van was out front, along with several news crews who were being held at bay by the local police. Two PRT troopers flanked the entrance, containment foam sprayers on their backs.

For humor and a shred of normalcy, I landed Atlas in a parking space and invited the rest of the team to do the same. One quick order for the dogs to stay and they sat obediently, waiting for their master to return. We strode as one to the capital building, Grue in the lead and me close behind. The news hounds babbled questions at us and I chose to reply by clogging their camera lenses and microphones with bugs. We could talk to the press after our hearing.

The troopers nodded to us as we walked in and I nodded back. Inside the main hall, a secretary pointed us in the direction of the courtroom. It was surreal, knowing that I had gone from villain to rogue and could soon become a full-out hero. We didn't make small talk as we walked; we'd agreed beforehand that we didn't want to give anyone ammunition to use against us. A bailiff opened the mahogany double doors for us and we walked up to stand before the seven judges of the state supreme court.

"O yea, o yea," another bailiff said to open the session, and I had to physically restrain myself from doing a double-take. They actually said that? I scanned the room while our lengthy docket was read off, and I noticed Director Piggot, of all people, in the seats. I swallowed down my bile, not wanting them to smell my fear. Could she be planning another gambit to wrangle me into the Wards? I reached out to Atlas and let him wick away my stress.

I was brought out of my stupor by the judge in the center – I guessed she was the chief justice – speaking up. "Undersiders, that is, the group composed of parahumans alias Grue, Tattletale, Regent, ah...Bitch, Skitter and Imp, we have brought you here today to decide whether you are deserving of a pardon. You have committed numerous crimes against the public and private sectors, most notably the robbery and hostage situation that unfolded in the Clams Casino in December of last year. In addition to a list of numerous felonies, you also count two murderers among your members. What justification can you offer for us to pardon your crimes?"

We looked back to Tattletale and she took the cue to step forward. "Chief Justice Anten," she said seamlessly with barely a glance at the name placard, "honorable members of the court, while laws must be absolute, we have judges and juries because crime always has a cause. Rarely does a person simply decide one day to become a murderer." She looked back to Bitch and Regent. "If I may, I would like to argue for us as a group, as well as for Rachel Lindt and Jean-Paul Vasil."

Tattletale stepped back to stand beside the dark-blonde girl. "I'm sorry in advance for talking about this," she said, resting a hand on Rachel's shoulder. "Rachel Lindt was abandoned by her family and then, because she wasn't 'cute' enough, no foster family wanted to keep her. Then, when she found her only friend in the world – a puppy she named Rollo – her then foster mother decided to _murder_ Rachel's only friend. This caused Rachel's trigger event, and in reaction to her trauma Rollo struck out and killed the ones who would kill him.

"After having been abused by the system, Rachel was again let down when she was automatically presumed to be a violent and cruel person. The girl, who had never been taught social skills, and who had suffered a nervous breakdown as her puppy drowned, was then expected to argue in her own defense. Is it any wonder she fled?" Tattletale paced forward again. "Rachel was forced to become a criminal because the legal and social systems had predetermined that she was a criminal and gave her no recourse but to resort to illegal actions in order to preserve her freedom. To paraphrase Sir Thomas More, will we continue to make criminals and subsequently punish them?"

Tattletale next stepped beside Regent. "Jean-Paul has suffered the same fate. Held hostage by his father, Heartbreaker, he was tortured from birth and forced to follow in Niko Vasil's footsteps. Your honors, I would ask you a simple question: if Jean-Paul enjoyed working with his father, if he willingly murdered others, would he not have remained in Canada where he would be safer, instead of setting out on his own with a relatively weak power?

"In truth, we have all been subject to the same confluence of events: failed by authority figures and forced to commit crime in order to preserve our freedom. But now, we have finally been given a chance to turn our fates around. I do not say 'turn our lives around', because we are not the ones at fault. We are victims more than we are predators, and we want nothing more than the opportunity to prove that we are not the monsters that society has attempted to make us out to be."

Tattletale took a deep breath in preparation for her next rant, when Piggot stood up and spoke. "Your honors, the Undersiders have the Brockton Bay Protectorate's confidence. On their own initiative, they established a defensive perimeter to defend the neighborhoods around the docks. Furthermore, they went beyond their own call of duty to cooperate with us in ending the gang war. Each one of the Undersiders put his or her life on the line to help protect innocents. As director of the regional PRT, I fully support a pardon."

We all turned to gawk at her. Lisa had told me that Piggot had seemingly warmed to us, but I hadn't expected an endorsement like that. As usual, I started to speak without thinking. "Ahm..." This time, the domino mask couldn't hide my blush. "Our plan is to establish ourselves as a hero group if we get a pardon..." I looked down and started fiddling with one of my thick hairs.

The judges shifted over and started murmuring to one another. I took the chance to offer Piggot a thankful smile.

Anten looked back to us, her expression stern. "Personal feelings aside, it is the determination of this court that, as your crimes were committed as minors and the most grievous had extenuating circumstances, and due to the director of the local PRT offering you her full support, we are willing to extend to you a pardon on two conditions: you must form your hero group within the year and must be vetted and cleared by the PRT. Should these conditions be met, your records will be permanently expunged."

"Thank you," I said, while still looking at Director Piggot.

(BREAK)

We exited the building, prepared to face the press. Grue took the lead and we stepped up to the squawking crowd. He raised his hands for silence and, when they wouldn't shut up, he wreathed them in darkness until they quieted down. "If you won't shut up, you won't be able to hear us talk," he said as he dropped the darkness.

We waited until we were certain they'd stay quiet. "Now then... We, the Undersiders, are officially turning over a new leaf. We have received a full pardon, which will allow us to function as a hero group instead of as rogues. We'll give a more in-depth statement once we've made arrangements back in Brockton Bay."

Rachel whistled for the dogs, who nearly mowed down the news hounds. I had Atlas fly over and I leapt onto his back, and we all took off for home.


	25. Adaptation 05

**Adaptation 3.05**

I parked Atlas under cover of Grue's darkness as Bitch progressively shrank the dogs until they could fit through the front door. Dad wasn't home, but when I checked the home phone's messages I found he'd left one for us. _"I saw the news, congratulations! I'll be bringing home pizza to celebrate, so call me up with your orders before I leave."_ I just had to grin as I relayed his message.

"Before that, however," my grin widened and I had to exert real effort to keep from exposing my teeth, so wide had my smile stretched, "I have a surprise for you all."

Our house was only a one-story number, but it had a basement. Well, 'basement' is a generous appellation. Really, it was an oversized boiler room to keep the heat as concentrated as it could in the harsh Brockton Bay winters, particularly with the cold from the open water wicking away any warmth it could reach. However, there was enough room for my purposes. I used bugs to navigate as I carried the large cardboard box upstairs, through the laundry room and into the living room. The box wasn't heavy; pre-changes me could have handled it, but it was bulky and unwieldy as all hell.

To be extra magical, I sent an eyebug into the box so I could identify the items before even pulling them out. "Alec, you're up first!" I pulled out a white bodysuit decorated with metallic gold paint to imitate royal decadence. In addition, the bugs airlifted a Two-Face style dramatis personae mask, the right half laughing and the left maudlin. I had to admit to myself that the Batman movies from Aleph might have had a bit too much influence in this particular design, as the smiling half of the mouth curled almost to the edge of the mask while the frown was a cross between sadness and a derisive sneer. "Made from spider silk and 'silk-mache'," I grinned. "What do you think?"

"Holy shit," the brunet whispered as he accepted the outfit. "It looks like you got my measurements perfect. How...oh christ, I don't want to know, do I?"

I smirked, which – considering my glowing eyes – was probably pretty disturbing. "I had bugs crawl on all of you while you slept. A few nights to get every angle, and then I could get to work." I saw Lisa shudder theatrically in my peripheral vision. "You can still wear your puffy shirt over it, but this should keep you safe from most gunfire, at least for a few shots."

Alec gave me what I figured was the closest to a genuine smile I'd ever get out of him. "Thank you, Taylor."

"You're my friends," I said simply. "I wasn't going to leave you vulnerable when I could do something about it. Now," I smiled as I reached back into the box, "Brian's next!" His bodysuit was all black, planned to be worn beneath his leathers to make him doubly hard to put down. The real beauty, however, was the mask to be worn under his helmet. It covered his entire face, with tinted lenses to help maintain the alien appearance. The design, however, was no longer a white skull: the paint was the off-white, almost-yellow of skeletal bone depicting a grinning demon skull inspired by the _Queen Anne's Revenge_ itself. Since Grue was a master of showmanship-style intimidation, I figured it was only fair to draw from one of the original greats of that art.

Brian couldn't stop grinning long enough to properly thank me. That wide smile of his was all the thanks I needed, though.

"And little sis gets hers next. Aisha, where're you hiding?" I did my best not to jump when she appeared beside me. Imp's bodysuit was all black as well, and I'd taken some creative license with her mask. Well, by 'some creative license', I mean I'd scrapped everything except for the little devil horns at the top. The entire mask was a matte ebony, fitted with black lenses. The horns were slightly more gray and more candy-painted to approximate real horns. I was mostly drawing from what I'd seen of rhinos on Animal Planet, but I thought it worked. Around the eyes I'd had the idea to make stylized flames, like a burning gaze or something, but clearly flames weren't my strong suit. It looked more like she had empty, bloody eye sockets.

"Bad-_ass_!" ...And of course that would be her reaction. Aisha pounced me with a hug and snatched the outfit from me.

"Y'know, I was gonna hand it to you..." I just chuckled and shook my head, giving up the argument as a lost cause before it started. "Rachel," I turned to the dark-blonde girl, "I had the idea for the extras just before we left. I set the wasps and spiders to work, but I wasn't there to direct them so I hope you like your outfit." First came her bodysuit, also all-black, and built to her proportions. Rachel was the bulkiest of us all, naturally thick-set and further filled out with equal parts muscle and the kind of fat that the homeless need when they don't know when their next meal will be. Next was her mask. I would freely admit that my painting skills on Grue's mask came from using the bugs to move the airbrush, but everything I made was stylized. I knew it was a lost cause to try making a realistic-looking dog mask or even a cartoonish one like she'd buy from the drugstores, so instead I went the route of a full-head mask, almost a helmet, depicting one of her dogs in its monstrous form. The uneven proportions and bone-spur growths were perfect for my silk-mache and chitin shards.

Rachel gawked at the mask. "It looks like Angelica," she said simply.

"It gets better." I pulled out the last part of her ensemble: one of her beloved jackets, fur collar and all, with snarling monster-dog pauldrons on the shoulders. "Cerberus should have three heads, after all." I barely managed to remain upright, though the wind was knocked out of me, as Rachel suddenly surged over and hugged me tight. As soon as I realized what was happening, I didn't hesitate to hug her back. I wanted Rachel to understand that we were friends; maybe now she was really getting it.

The stocky girl took her new costume and walked over to the couch, sitting down as though nothing had happened. I figured it was best not to press it.

"And lastly, Lisa, your costume isn't entirely finished." I cut her off before she could do her extrapolation thing. "Yes, my work is done, but hear me out. Your voice is your greatest weapon. Before, you were taking on heroes, who you could mostly trust to fight fair if only to maintain the Endbringer truce."

"Now we'll be dealing mostly with villains," she continued my thought, "most of whom wouldn't hesitate to break my jaw or other nasty things to shut me up." Lisa nodded to me. "I'll see if I can get a helmet."

I pulled out her bodysuit, which was her black-and-violet color scheme in alternating panels. On the upper body, the right half was violet while the left was black, and the colors were reversed on the bottom half. A segmented utility belt of alternating colors was designed to sit at the intersection of the upper and lower halves. Lisa's signature golden Egyptian eye was located in the center of her chest.

"So," Alec said as he continued looking his outfit up and down, "where's your costume?"

I blushed a little. "Well, I basically had to redesign mine from the ground up, so it'd be easier for me to just get changed and show you. Wait here?" I didn't stick around for an answer, heading to my room to dress. It was certainly a relief to get out of the PRT jumpsuit. I knew that it would have been much more comfortable for me to ride to the courthouse in my new costume, but that would have ruined the surprise. Plus, I wanted us all to appear in our new outfits together as the new heroic Undersiders.

My bodysuit itself was mostly unchanged, the armor in the same places, but let out some to account for my new physique. I had forgone boots so that I didn't have to worry about my claws getting stuck or something else awful, instead reinforcing the soles of the suit and leaving slits for the retractable nails. I figured they might be useful for climbing or for close combat; they were definitely sharp enough to count as weapons. I had made similar adjustments to the hands, nixing the chitin claws in favor of my own. I instead placed some light plating on the knuckles for if I had to throw a punch. It wouldn't make too much difference, but it would be enough.

The biggest change was my mask. Before, it had been mostly spider silk and had fit over my entire head. Now that I needed to leave my new hair free, I'd rebuilt it entirely as a solid chitin/silk-mache piece. It covered my entire face from my hairline to the tip of my nose, the sides running down along my jaw to form the protective mandibles but leaving my mouth exposed. The only spider silk fabric on the mask covered my neck and the underside of my jaw, tucking into the neck of my bodysuit. I mixed silk with chitin around the back of my head at the bottom of the hairline there, to help the mask stay anchored. With luck, having fit it to my face as I had, I wouldn't have to worry about it slipping loose or going crooked in combat. Finally, because my own eyes now glowed orange, the mask's new lenses had barely any tint: just enough to pick up and amplify my own color for sheer intimidation factor.

I checked myself over in the mirror. Yeah, I definitely struck an imposing figure. I reminded myself of Alexandria, in a way: her costume too was very dark and intimidating, though her invulnerability meant that she didn't need to worry about armor. She had a cape, though, and very few people could pull off that look. Most just ended up looking like cosplayers. However...

My mind started to spool up again. I could conceal bugs under cloth, more than I could hide in my armor plates. In that respect, I decided to start weaving a cape and a skirt for the sole purpose of keeping even more of my swarm on hand. I wouldn't use them except in emergencies, keeping a few thousand (or a few hundred thousand) venomous creepies as my ace in the hole. But that could wait. For now...

I walked back into the living room, put my fists on my hips, and gave my best pre-fight smirk. "Introducing the new and improved Skitter!"

(BREAK)

After a round of compliments and teasing flirts (courtesy of Alec until Brian and Lisa joined in and managed to make my blush visible even under my mask), Rachel's eagerness to try on her new costume turned the rest of the afternoon into a fashion show, with each of us taking turns getting kitted out and showing off the new look. I had to admit, I did good work. My only nagging concern was that we actually looked a bit _more_ villainous than when we'd actually been villains, but I figured the gangs and villains could use a little intimidation.

Aisha, queen of suddenness, proposed that we remain in full costume and surprise my father when he got home. I figured it would be good to break in the new suits, so we relaxed around the house for the rest of the day. Rachel took to wearing her mask on top of her head like a mutant pope hat so she could snack while in costume, and I had to admit that her sitting there like that was oddly adorable. After a couple of hours, I announced dad was coming down the street and we got fully dressed. Alec actually had a good idea for how to greet him, so we went with his plan.

My father unlocked the door, tired after a long day of work, but wearing a smile. He came bearing pizza, several boxes' worth of large pies. I gave him a casual smile from my position on the couch. "Hey."

"Hey." It was like something out of a cartoon. Dad paused, did a double-take, and let his eyes wander over each of us. "Holy shit," he said in a hollow voice, then composed himself. "You guys look amazing. Terrifying, but amazing." He finally grinned. "For a second, I thought we were under attack." He walked further into the living room and set down the boxes. "Bottom one's mine. Touch it and die, you little ingrates."

I couldn't help giggling. Dad had adjusted to my parahuman life so well. "Let me get changed so my armor doesn't stab you, and I'll give you a hug, dad." I trotted off to my room while the others got to argue over who would use the bathroom to change first.

"You do that," dad called after me. "I'm gonna get changed, too."

Once we were all back in our civvies, we sat down and started going after the pizzas like madmen. Aisha bit Brian's hand when he was moving the veggie pizza box, while Rachel and I sat down and split the Hawaiian pizza we'd ordered. Dad played up the angry caveman schtick as he growled at anyone who approached his three-meat dish.

Brian and Lisa shared a look and the blonde nodded. He produced an envelope from his pocket. "We have a couple surprises as well. First off, Lisa hired some private contractors to help rebuild headquarters, so we now have what we talked about: a kennel for Rachel's dogs, and a pen for your critters," he smiled at me. "We wanted to wait to tell you until after our hearing, pretty much for the same reason as you and the new costumes. It's still pretty bare-bones and will probably take a while to fill in with our knick-knacks, but it's functional as-is. Moreover..." Brian leaned past me and handed the envelope to my father.

Dad gawked as he read the contents. "What...?" He looked up. "What!?" He looked back down at the paper in his hand. "What!?"

Everybody was smiling. I thought I even saw a tiny upturn of Rachel's lips. I scooted next to dad to read over his shoulder. As I read the contents, I couldn't help imitating him. "What!?"

Inside the envelope was the deed to a new house in Renaissance Park, the neighborhood right next to Arcadia High. The house was on Yonkers Road, because there always had to be a Yonkers. I resolved to put Google to the test and finally find out just who the fuck Yonkers was and why there was a street named that in practically every major city.

Lisa's voice brought me back to the present before my thoughts could get too pedantic. "We figured that, since you can't hide your changes, you'd be worried about someone going after your dad to get to you. What better way to keep you both safe than to have you live right in PRT central?" Her foxy grin widened. "Oh, don't start gushing gratitude. We're still gonna be rooming with and mooching off you until we can secure places of our own."

I was still trying to process everything (and my brain kept going back to Yonkers), so dad answered for us. "This is..." He stopped, swallowed, and steadied himself. "No, I can't say it's too much. After everything that happened, I couldn't in good conscience turn this down especially when it's for our safety." He looked around the room, really looking at it: the ceiling, the baseboards, every little detail was as though he was studying it for the first time. "There are so many memories in this house, good and bad. But..." He hugged me tight. "Things change. A house is just a house, and we can take our memories with us wherever we go. I suppose, with you guys getting a new start, we could do the same." He gave me a smile, which I returned. "By the way, how much did it cost?"

"Only about seven-fifty K," Aisha chirped.

"Yeah, prices tanked during the war," Lisa added with a smirk.

I was later told that my dad and I had identical slack-jawed expressions of shock.

(BREAK)

The next morning, dad let Kurt and Lacey take over administration for the day so he could plan out how we'd pack up the house. He was currently utilizing Lisapedia for that, the blonde following him around and mentally noting all of his comments. While I had justifiably ribbed dad about letting those two have free rein of the Union, I was also excited. Kurt was uncle and goofy older brother rolled into one, while Lacey had the cool older cousin vibe. Arcadia was starting back up soon, so I'd be able to reveal myself to the world and regain some semblance of a normal life. That alone was humorous, that outing myself as a cape would be a return to normalcy, but it was true: while I hid my identity I couldn't leave the house and we couldn't have visitors. I was sure people suspected that we were housing the Undersiders, but without proof it had all been rumor and gossip. When I finally stepped up and showed the world my parahuman changes, I would be able to have friends over again, make new friends, and dad could invite his own friends to the house for booze and bad sports games.

I was seated in the living room, watching Blue's Clues reruns with Rachel. She would make idle comments about the show being dumb or imply it was condescending, though not in such big words, but she hadn't asked me to turn the channel yet so I suspected she found it as childishly cute as I did. I heard my phone start to ring and hopped off the couch, heading down the hall while I had a platoon of flies collectively transport it to meet me halfway. The number was the main PRT signal tower.

"Hebert residence," I said into the receiver.

"_Skitter,"_ came a voice I recognized. I could tell Miss Militia was smiling over the phone. _"Congratulations on the pardon. Are you and Regent free today?"_

"I think so," I replied, "but it sort of depends on what you want us for."

"_Well, we're planning to test a new parahuman for probatory entry into the Wards, a parahuman that you know personally, and since we don't have any Masters or Strangers for her to demonstrate her powers, we wanted you to come lend your expertise."_

"So her therapist cleared her for duty?" I was happy for Emma, but it seemed a little fast.

"_Not duty, but she could benefit greatly from the guidance and education of the Wards program as well as learning to control the urges that come with her powers. Being exposed to capes every day in a controlled environment should be very helpful to her."_ She couldn't hold in a chuckle. _"Though the beginning could be rough. I anticipate as many complaints about her as there were about Assault."_

"Well, I'm up for it. Let me check on Regent." I held the phone away from me and hollered. "Hey Regent!"

"The fuck you want!?" he called back.

"Wanna go legally screw with people?"

"Always!"

I placed the phone back against my ear. "Yeah, he's in. We'll see you this afternoon? I mean, I don't want to be in too big a hurry..."

"Afternoon is fine," Miss Militia replied. "Around 1 PM at the Rig. If you bring your beetle, you can land on the helipad and someone will escort you."

"Sounds good. We'll see you there," I smiled and hung up the phone.


	26. Adaptation 06

**Adaptation 3.06**

Flight.

It's something that we, as humans, always dream of. There is something whimsical, dreamlike, even magical about the freedom to soar into the air and travel wherever you want. Perhaps that's why flight is such a common parahuman power: it's all about the inherent wish for freedom. More wonderful than the joy of flight itself is to experience it with someone you love.

Yes, Atlas was an enormous beetle, what some people might call a monster, but he was mine and I loved him. He was my pet and even my child by some perception of it. As I sat calmly on his thorax, continually keeping him level, I wondered about my own powers. If the locker incident had come sooner, before they'd tormented me so much, would I have developed some sort of ancillary Mover ability from the desire for freedom?

I paused my introspection to slap at Regent's hand as it slid across my breast. I could tell he wasn't doing it on purpose; the brunet wasn't enjoying the flight nearly as much as I was, or really, at all. He was clinging to me for dear life and occasionally trying to find additional purchase to keep himself firmly on-board the beetle. I'd offered to let him sit on my lap, but he would have none of it.

My boobs, small as they were, were grab-able because I was once again in the PRT jumpsuit. I didn't want to expose the new costumes until we came out as a group, so Regent was wearing his old outfit as well.

"I keep telling you," I said in a slightly raised voice to be heard over the rushing wind, "you're completely safe. I'm keeping Atlas level so there's no risk of falling off."

"Easy for you to say, you're in control!" he whined. "My asshole's clenched tighter than Piggot's just so I don't projectile-shit myself in terror! My self-preservation sense is tingling!"

I just rolled my eyes and steered Atlas in for the approach to the Rig. The anti-air guns swerved to our position for a moment and flashed red lights. I figured that was a scan of some sort, because nobody opened fire. We landed smoothly on the helipad and I let Atlas scuttle off both for the sake of his privacy and to open more space on the pad in case anybody else needed to land. I felt Atlas stroll down the side of the Rig until he found a nice quiet spot to lay down.

I looked to Regent. "Ready?" I adjusted my domino mask to make sure it'd stay.

"Yes and no. I'm ready to fuck with people, not ready to get arrested if they decide to get cute."

I nodded and led the way. Alec was still a mystery to me. He was a snarky goof and usually struck me as kind of an idiot, but I'd occasionally get flashes of a dark pain behind his eyes. With a father like Heartbreaker, he'd probably suffered more than any of us, yet it didn't seem to affect him. But he made it clear, when we tried talking about it, that it _did_ affect him, though I couldn't really see the results of it.

I felt my subconscious running a new series of tests, but this time it wasn't for a new critter. In my mind's eye was an approximation of a human brain – my brain, probably, since I didn't really know brain biology and didn't have experience with any other brains. The brain was bombarded with pure emotional trauma without context. No suffering to work through, no survivor story to rely on. Just pain, fear, joy, lust...crippling levels of each, intermittently hammering the brain. As my mental simulations continued, the brain began to deaden its chemical receptors to reduce the impact of these emotional spikes. After a few cycles, the chemicals were only produced at the bare minimum to maintain brain function.

I almost staggered at that and had to reach out for Atlas in order to steady myself. Had I just used my power to help understand another person? I could answer that question with a conclusive 'maybe'. It would certainly explain why Alec was so odd. If his brain had adapted to his father's cruelty, almost nixed his emotional responses, so many little things made sense. But then, those little things could be from any number of other events and influences, rather than one big one. I resisted the urge to groan and hold my head. This was probably what it was like for Lisa, doing so much guesswork in such a short span of time. I also didn't need to focus on that right now. We were here to help test Emma, to make sure she could get back on the right track.

While I had done my best to divorce the two sides of Emma in my mind, I still was nowhere near as friendly with the redhead as I had been and this favor was not out of friendship. Not really. I wanted to help her so she could be a good person again, to take a nightmarish bully out of circulation. Emma had the potential for serious evil, even if the cruelty came from good intentions, and I didn't want anyone else to suffer her tender mercies as I had.

A PRT operative greeted us with a smile, which I already found confusing, and led us into a section of the Rig I hadn't been in before. It was a large area, sealed off from the rest of the Rig and divided into smaller fractions that varied from a firing range to some sort of Escher jungle gym. We were pointed toward the firing range, where Battery stood with Emma.

I was instantly able to recognize her crimson hair but noticed the standard domino mask she wore, meaning that I shouldn't acknowledge her as Emma. I stepped up to them. "Battery, good to see you again." I offered her a handshake, which she returned.

"Skitter, likewise. I heard about the Undersiders' pardon and that you're planning to go hero. Good to hear. We could always use more capes making things better," she smiled.

Battery was the perfect female face for the Brockton Bay Protectorate. While Miss Militia was technically ranked higher and, truthfully, made more public statements, she was somewhat 'other' on many levels: her dark olive skin hinting at the Middle East, which had been a hellscape ever since the emergence of parahumans; her build, nearly as tall as me and quite muscular, with a significant helping of curves on top of it that cut a figure rather like an amazon; even her power wasn't exactly family-friendly, since she could only make legitimate weapons.

Battery, on the other hand, was the girl-next-door. Her straight brown hair came to just above her shoulders, her figure was slender, and her power was not only visually impressive but also had been used as a lesson many times: focus and determination now leads to great reward later. Battery was a prime candidate to speak at many high schools, while her teammate Assault usually handled the grade-schoolers.

I nodded past Battery at Emma. "And who's the new recruit?"

The brunette smiled, happy to go along with the song-and-dance. I didn't know if Emma knew the unwritten rules, so it'd be funny to see her stumble through the act. "At the moment, we're going with Scanner. She's a low-level Thinker who detects parahumans as well as those with the potential to trigger."

"Sounds pretty useful," Regent responded as he leaned around us to get a look at Emma. Even in a loose shirt and jeans she still cut an impressive silhouette and I couldn't blame a teenage boy for wanting to ogle her. "So what're we here to test?"

"Well," Battery smiled again, "why don't we ask her?" She led us the several feet until we were within comfortable conversation range with Emma.

I nodded to the redhead. "Scanner, right? I'm Skitter and this is Regent. PRT asked us here to help test your powers. What've you got so far?"

Emma stared at me, befuddled, for several long seconds before she seemed to catch on and decided to just wing it. "Well, my power works through my eyes. I can use it as far as line of sight goes, but it gets less distinct the further out. When people are far enough away that I have trouble identifying them, the glow starts to get fuzzy. If people are clumped together and far away, I only know if there's a parahuman in the group. I have about half that range for potential capes."

"It doesn't work through walls, then?" Regent's question was, I had to admit, a good one.

"A little," Emma – Scanner – shrugged. "I guess it's sort of like heat-vision goggles in the movies. I can see glows through walls if people are close enough, but it's hit-and-miss."

"Scanner also says she can detect parahuman influence, which is why we wanted some Masters here."

"I could pick out Dauntless' boots from inside a box," Scanner stated.

"...Which is helpful," Battery continued, "but not exactly game-changing. But if she can identify Master-controlled people and animals, _that_ is a valuable power."

Assault strolled in, holding a box. "I couldn't catch anything, so I just sent Velocity out for some mealworms."

I could feel the creatures inside the box, squirming over one another, but I didn't take control. I just let them exist on the boundaries of my awareness. Battery, after she removed her palm from her forehead, took off the lid and set it down before bidding Scanner to look into the box. "So, is Skitter controlling any of them?"

"No, she's..." Emma trailed off as I took several mealworms into my sphere, not actively directing them but holding the controls for if I wanted to. "Wait, I can see a few of them, but the glow is faint." I started steering the mealworms, telling them where to crawl. "Yes, now I can see them clearly." She pointed and I could see her finger following one of the worms I was controlling. "And that one too," she pointed at another one.

"She's right," I said as I relinquished control. Mealworms were boring anyway. "Guess you're up next, Reg–" I didn't get to finish my sentence as I suddenly slapped myself in the face. I shot a dirty look at Regent.

"Did you see that?" he asked Scanner like he hadn't just made me look like an idiot.

"I...think so," she replied. "It's hard to tell because she has some glows of her own, but I thought I saw yours."

I raised a brow. "Some glows? How's that work?"

"Most people only have one color. You've got two." She shrugged. "You have two powers, I guess?"

That could make sense, but...something just didn't sit right with that explanation. I quickly wracked my brain. Most of the Protectorate had only one power each, same with the Wards. Except Aegis, who had flight and redundant systems. Those were definitely two different powers. "Does Aegis have two glows?"

Emma drew in a breath to reply, then paused, her face etched in thought. "...No, actually, he doesn't."

"Huh. I'll have to chat with Foresight about that."

Battery tilted her head. "Who?"

"Tats is changing her name," Regent replied for me. "She doesn't think her old one is very PR-friendly. And Bitch is gonna go by Cerberus."

Emma looked lost. "Tats? Bitch?"

"Tattletale and Hellhound," Battery clarified for her. "And for that matter, why didn't she just go with Hellhound?"

"She hates that name," I answered. "Try not to call her by it or one of her dogs may bite you on instinct."

"Those things are dogs!?"

I had to laugh at Emma's bug-eyed expression. "Yes, Scanner, they're dogs."

Battery looked back to me. "Oh, and Skitter, Director Piggot wanted to talk with you about something. She said it's pretty important."

I nodded. "Alright. If somebody could lead me to her office?" I followed the PRT officer who volunteered.

As I left, Regent suddenly yelped like a frightened chihuahua and leapt into the air, grabbing at his nether regions. "Skitter! What did you do!?"

I just shot him a wink. Maybe mealworms weren't quite so boring after all.

(BREAK)

Emily Piggot always had a severe look about her. Part of that was the shape of her face, doughy with heavy jowls set along well-worn frown lines, but another part was her attitude. I'd seen the same expressions from my father when Union work got to him, the look that screamed, 'I keep dealing with this shit and it never gets any better'. While dad hadn't had that expression in a while, Piggot's face bore what seemed to be the original grandmother of the look.

"Skitter," she grunted. "Have a seat, please." Once I was seated, she slid a manila folder over to me.

"What's this?" I didn't want to look like a goon reading through the whole thing just to figure out what was going on.

"Shadow Stalker escaped from detention." Her statement was quiet, almost gentle for her, yet it struck me like a train.

"Wh-what!?" I flung open the folder and started thumbing through the report.

"Hess and another inmate at the juvenile center seem to have staged a fight that broke Sophia's electric cuffs. She then unlocked numerous doors and incited a riot, and escaped in the chaos. She's been at large for nearly a month; apparently a single low-rank parahuman wasn't deemed important enough to be passed up the chain during the recovery efforts." The heavy woman sighed and seemed to sink deeper into her massive chair. "I'm aware that we failed you, Skitter. We should have monitored Shadow Stalker better, should have been more judicious in who we trusted." Her eyes, rather large but seemingly beady when compared to the mass of her face, focused on mine. "What I'm about to say is strictly off the record. If you repeat this to anyone, I'll deny any knowledge of it."

Piggot leaned forward, folding her arms on her desk. "Miss Hebert, you were the catalyst for our victory in the war. And I'm not talking about your powers. You led me to question the wisdom of several PRT policies which, had I continued following blindly like a good little military girl, would have gotten heroes killed and likely lost us Brockton Bay." Her frown deepened and she looked down, deep in thought. "There's something else at work here, Taylor. Orders don't add up, policies seem designed to foster resentment and conflict... It's like someone is setting us up to fail." Her eyes drifted back up. "I'm telling you this because I need people on the outside to keep their eyes open. I'm hoping against hope that I'm just paranoid, that it's just bureaucracy run amok and nothing more sinister than regulations snowballing into a red-tape nightmare. But my instincts say something else is going on. Let Tattletale know the gist of this, so maybe she can put her power to work." Her gaze bored into mine and it took a concerted effort not to shrink back into my chair. "There are very few people I honestly trust. Miss Militia is one of them. She believes you're trustworthy. I believe you have integrity. I hope you'll prove us right." She gave me a bit of a sympathetic smile. "I know this is a lot to take in; believe me, I deal with crises like this every week on average. If you want, you and Regent can join the Wards for lunch in the cafeteria."

I blinked, my brain latching onto that bit of mundanity. "Lunch? But isn't it close to 2?"

"Patrol and monitor schedules change every day to keep villains on their toes. Today happens to be a later lunch because of that. And Taylor? Keep your guard up. Our profilers believe that Shadow Stalker will come after you eventually."

I snorted. "You don't need criminal psychologists to figure that out." I went to leave but stopped myself, turning back around. "Director, why did you tell me all this? I mean, why really? You could have waited, and surely there are people more qualified–"

"That's just it," she cut me off. "It's all unknown and up in the air. Could I have waited? I don't know. The public goodwill over our handling of the war is the only reason I haven't been reassigned, which at this point would probably be forced renditioning to a Simurgh quarantine zone. And yes, there are more qualified people, but I don't know if I can trust them. You're an outsider, someone who's been repeatedly failed by the system. Even if I'm still not certain I can trust you, I think I _can_ trust that you're not working for some larger organization." She let her guard down, just a little, and I could see how utterly weary she was. "I need independents. We, the PRT, need outside oversight because our interior checks and balances aren't coming out to 1. I just can't go rooting for a corruption that may not even exist, because I'm more needed here and making waves is going to get me removed. So I need people like you. I'm sorry for dropping something like this on you, but this is what comes with being a hero. You don't get to choose when crises or conspiracies are going to pop up. But," she leaned back again and composed herself, "you're still a teenager and deserve to act like one. Go, have lunch with the Wards, try to have some fun. Don't let my bombshell here rule your life."

"Easy for you to say," I muttered as I left her office.

I stalked down the hall in a daze. All of that information swirled in my head...the national Protectorate's refusal to help, the apparent competition and disenfranchisement of rogue groups when the narrative was that rogues should be encouraged, even my own suffering at Shadow Stalker's hands...

I stopped, having another Keanu Reeves "Whoa" moment. Winslow did fuck-all to help because they wanted Shadow Stalker to stay with them. What if the PRT had a similar agenda? Perhaps one of the Triumvirate – or all of them – was holding defection over the humans' heads like the sword of Damocles? Or something else, another S-class threat? A new Sleeper being placated?

I shook my head and resumed walking. Piggot was right: if I focused too much on this, it would rule my life. I'd just started finding myself again, coming to terms with my changes. I couldn't backslide like that. _Okay, Taylor. One thing at a time. We can keep this on the back-burner like our Coil investigation._ For the moment, lunch took priority.

Well, maybe not priority. Honestly, except for when food was offered, I hadn't eaten – hadn't even felt hungry – since my reservoir formed. Maybe I was drawing nutrients from the slimy stuff in there? Regardless, my stomach still functioned, so I _could_ eat if I wanted to. Anyway, lunch would allow me to relax and take my mind off things, as well as talk with the Wards again. I had genuinely liked them the last time we met, and they'd stuck their necks out for me against Shadow Stalker.

(BREAK)

The Rig's main cafeteria was well-designed and well-stocked. Unlike Winslow's cafeteria, which herded kids into a single depressing line and had us all scowled at by evil-looking lunch ladies, the PRT cafeteria had several buffet lines to keep things moving. It also worked due to the changing work shifts. My arm suddenly flung out and pointed to my nine o'clock, and I looked over to see Regent waving at me, sitting with some of the Wards. I trotted over to the bench and took a seat beside the brunet.

Vista smiled at me from the other side. "Skitter, good to see you again."

I nodded and smiled at her and Clockblocker. "Likewise. Where's Aegis?"

"Monitor duty," Clockblocker replied. "It's his turn to suffer. So meet the rest of the family." He jerked his thumbs to either side. "Kid Win, Gallant and Browbeat. Say hi to Skitter, kids."

Kid Win, seated beside Vista, had obviously taken some inspiration from Iron Man. Or maybe he took inspiration from Hero, who himself had been inspired by Iron Man. Either way, he was in a streamlined red-and-gold suit of power armor with several attachment ports scattered around the shoulders and arms, presumably so he could mount weaponry without having to hold it. His helmet's lenses glowed red and the lower half had receded into the upper section, exposing his mouth so he could eat. His skin was pale, lips thin and rather pink. "Nice to meet you," he said, and I thought I detected a twinge of fear in his voice. Then again, if the Wards knew about the final night of the war, they probably had a right to be a little nervous. Clockblocker and Vista remembered me as a gawky, frightened girl. These three new folks only knew me as the alien-looking girl who was instrumental in bringing down two powerful gangs.

Gallant was right next to Clockblocker. He too wore a suit of power armor, though it seemed more defensive in nature since it featured numerous armor plates and what looked like robotic arms to relocate pieces on the fly. I didn't remember hearing about Gallant being a tinker, so the rather intimidating silver-and-gunmetal armor had to be a gift from somebody else. His armor's mask was rather like mine, leaving the lower half of his face exposed. He had a chiseled jaw and I could presume the rest of his face was equally handsome, so it made sense he'd want to show off for the press. Gallant inclined his head with a gentle smile.

Browbeat, on the other side of Gallant, was a beast. The man (boy, rather. If he was a Ward he was under 18) had to be at least as tall as my father and broader than even Armsmaster. His form-fitting bodysuit showed off enormous rippling muscles, though the dark green color – somewhere between forest green and olive drab – kept the outlines from becoming too distracting. He wore a helmet with a heavy metal mask that depicted a scowling, bearded man. The visage was reminiscent of Zeus, or Old Testament heroes. "Hi there." Just from those two words, I was instantly torn between liking and hating him. He'd put on his best suave voice and leaned in, flexing up his muscles even further. That alone would have made me dislike him, but the awkward way he did it made me sympathize and wonder if that was his way of coping with his own powers. Perhaps he had been a skinny nerd before his trigger and had sprouted up and out like a mini-Manpower. I'd reserve judgment.

Regent tilted his mask up slightly and started chowing down on a grilled-cheese sandwich. I figured he'd be dead to the world for a little while.

"Where's Scanner? Still getting tested?"

"Something like that," Kid Win said between bites of salad. "Her family's filling out the forms for Ward membership now that she's been approved. We officially have a new probie, though this one just needs psych evals instead of a friggin' jail cell."

Gallant nodded at the blank space on the table where my plate should have been. "Don't you want to grab something to eat?"

I shook my head. "No thanks. Apparently I don't really need to eat."

"Wish I had that power," Vista commented. "I'm still tiny but I get so hungry. I keep worrying I'll grow up short, fat and dumpy."

"Wouldn't be so much growing up as growing out, then." Huh, I guess Regent still had time for snark.

I opted to change the subject before Regent could get in another argument. "So how've things been since the war? Sorry we've been mostly laying low, but we didn't want to catch flak while some of us were still criminals."

Kid Win shrugged. "Not too bad, honestly. Been having a few problems, but no major crisis situations."

"Anything we should know about, you think?"

"Well, since the Director told us you're trying to go legit..." Vista leaned in. "The Merchants have been losing ground fast, mostly out by the trainyards. "Unfortunately, since they're the Merchants, we can't just walk up and ask them who's kicking their asses."

"We can," Clockblocker interrupted, "but we just get a bunch of slurred swears for our trouble."

Vista continued as though she hadn't been interrupted. Apparently the Wards dealt with Clockblocker like we dealt with Imp and Regent. "We know Trainwreck lives out in one of the old freight-loading platforms, but he's never tried to take ground before. In fact, in the past he's worked with the Merchants and they seemed to have a good enough thing going, so we're wondering what's changed."

"Weird thing is," Gallant picked up the train of thought, "the territory that's getting taken? It's a ghost town. We patrol there and there's nobody."

"I might bring Atlas around to check it out," I murmured. I noticed all of the Wards looking at me in confusion. _What the hell, why not?_ "Well, you want to do the whole 'hero introduction' thing and share our powers?"

"Only if Vista shouts, 'In the name of the Moon!'"

I just rolled my eyes while Regent snickered.

"You want us all to share so you're not giving up anything for free, thereby refusing to allow yourself to be perceived as weak," Gallant said in an even tone. "Smart." Was that what I was doing? "Alright, I'll go first. I'm a low-level Blaster and a Shaker/Master 1. The bolts I fire cause emotional responses in living targets, in addition to concussive damage. I always say Shaker/Master as one thing, since it's really a hybrid. I can't actually control somebody, but if you double somebody over in hysterical laughter or make them run away screaming, it's not much of a distinction. My biggest problem is my short range and the fact that the emotional effects don't last long. Oh, I'm also a Thinker 2 because I can sense emotions. Lets me see past some Stranger effects."

Browbeat spoke up next. "On the topic of hybrids, I'm a Striker and a Brute/Breaker 1. My strength and durability are enhanced slightly, and my body is constantly, but very slowly, getting bigger and tougher. My main thing is whatcha call 'tactile telekinesis'. Basically, I have super strength without having super strength."

"He can do the scientifically impossible shit from the old Superman movies, like picking up a statue by its finger without breaking it," Clockblocker clarified.

"Problem is, I'm subject to the Manton Effect: I can't directly use my power against other people, so I need to pick up heavy stuff and club them," Browbeat finished.

Kid Win was last. "And I'm a Tinker, though I haven't found my specialty yet. Mostly, I've found success with energy weapons and antigravity, but I haven't had any 'eureka' moments yet," he said with a sheepish smile.

I gave them a thankful smile. "Well, as you probably know, I can control bugs. But it's not just that: I can _make_ bugs, some really big, and control them too. Atlas is the beetle-monster who helped take down Kaiser, Menja and Hookwolf. I parked him on the helipad but he scuttled off to find someplace to nap."

Vista made a little noise. "He won't hurt anybody, will he?"

I shook my head. "Not unless provoked. He doesn't like people with emotion powers, apparently – at least, he doesn't like Glory Girl – but he'll just posture at you to back off. Live and let live. He's a very calm bug." I smirked. "I take him for a walk every day."

Kid Win laughed. "Okay, that I wanna see!"

"Just don't ask to ride along. It's dizzying enough to make you yak," Regent groaned.

We all chuckled at that and started sharing funny stories about work, making sure to keep quiet anything that might compromise our identities. It was weird, but I felt for the first time like this was really a job, and I could have friends at the office.

I focused on enjoying this while I could. Next would come the media circus of the Undersiders' rebranding and then, when Arcadia reopened, school.


	27. Adaptation 07

**Adaptation 3.07**

"Hey, Taylor."

I didn't reply.

"Taylor..."

I made a noise and burrowed deeper under the covers. Face-down, body and sheets tucked in on myself, I looked like some sort of cloth-bundled package.

Lisa bopped on a poofier part of my coverings. "Oh Taaaayloooor..."

"Go 'way. I'm impersonating a caterpillar."

Lisa promptly ripped the covers off me and I yelped in surprise. I'd had nervous sweats the previous night so I'd just slept in my underwear. By covering myself, I left my legs vulnerable and Lisa started hauling me out of bed by the ankle. "You..." She grunted with effort. "You can't hide out up here! This was partly your idea!"

"Well I'm partly vetoing it," I whined as I tried to squirm back to the safety of my covers.

"Dammit, Skitter," Lisa growled, "we need you with us! You're the one who convinced us we could be heroes in the first place. You can't just leave us in the lurch when we're about to publicly turn over a new leaf!"

Guilt, my kryptonite. Damn it all. I let out a defeated groan. "I hate when you use your power against me," I muttered as I stopped resisting. I didn't actively help, though.

"I didn't," she replied with a smug grin. "I just know you that well." She shot me a wink. "Now get in costume. We're due at PRT Headquarters at noon."

After she'd been gone for several seconds, I groaned again and dragged myself out of bed. As I trudged to the closet, Lisa popped her head in again, causing me to yelp.

"Was hoping for a free show," she laughed before departing for real.

I couldn't help chuckling. She knew exactly how to push my buttons, to get me embarrassed and energized yet not utterly humiliate me. I didn't know whether to love or hate her. _Oh well_. I threw on my athletic wear before donning my costume. As I flexed my fingers, claws slipping through the slits, I grinned. I felt like Skitter, now. My costume helped me to become myself, in a way; or at least another part of myself. I felt powerful and predatory, and I saw no reason to be afraid. I slipped my mask on and checked myself over in the mirror. Satisfied, I exited my room and headed for the central staircase of my enormous new house.

Well, I suppose "enormous" has different connotations to different people. It wasn't a mansion, but it was beautiful. Three stories plus a spacious basement which had access for my critters so the garage was free for the car. The first floor was the living area, dominated by a massive den ready for tables, couches, a humongous TV and anything else we could dream up. There was also a fair-sized dining room and a big kitchen, with enough space for several people to work at once. Or, rather, for my dad and I to work at once without our gangly limbs smacking into one another.

The second floor had the laundry room, offices each for my dad and Lisa (who insisted the office would be mine once she moved out), and guest rooms for the rest of the Undersiders. The third floor had a master suite, another large bedroom with non-adjacent bath, and a large but oddly-shaped bonus room. Dad had insisted I take the master suite, since I might need the extra space in the future.

For the moment, the house had very little in the way of furniture. Our old, comparatively tiny house had been stuffed to the gills with furnishings and mementos, yet they would barely fill a couple of the numerous rooms here. Of course, besides getting beds and other such things for the rest of the group, we were in no hurry to change that.

Aisha had spent most of her time gushing over the pool and hot tub out back. While it was currently too cold to make effective use of the pool, Lisa was already ribbing me from day one about buying a bikini for the hot tub. Rachel took the opportunity to do some shopping and pick up more stuffed animals, which were especially important for helping her sleep now that her dogs could bed down in a proper kennel at the new headquarters. Alec, of course, immediately got himself a new game system and started working on restoring his old records, while Brian had stocked his room with a yoga mat and other light exercise equipment. He kept the heavy stuff at headquarters.

I felt my confidence rise with every step, my costume fitting me like a second skin. They were right: dad, Brian, Lisa, Rachel...even Alec and Aisha, when they could be bothered to pause the snark. I was strong, and I could do this. I stalked into the living room and was met with the rest of the Undersiders in full costume, wolfing down breakfast. I decided to have a little something as well, just for the normalcy of it and in the hopes of keeping my blood sugar up. I grabbed a box of generic Rice Krispies and poured myself a bowl, plopping down between Rachel and Alec.

"So Lisa finally got you up," Brian noted with a grin.

"Yeah, you should've come with me, Brian. She was in her underwear. Cute faux-silk numbers." Lisa's smile was practically toxic as she shot me a wink and watched me blush all the way to my collarbone.

Dad walked past and bopped the blonde on the head. "I'll thank you not to turn my daughter into an exploitation movie, Lise."

Alec laughed as Lisa rubbed her head. "Usually I'm on the receiving end of that!" I bopped him on the head. "Hey! What was that for!?"

I shrugged. "You probably did something to deserve it."

Alec thought for a moment, then shrugged in agreement. We all couldn't help laughing at that.

My embarrassment successfully defused, I joined the others in devouring the morning meal before we finished getting dressed. I shifted my mandibles into place, the others donned their masks (including Lisa, who insisted on wearing a domino mask underneath, "just in case"), and then Brian and Lisa slipped on their helmets.

Aisha had taken to wearing a leather jacket and skirt for extra protection, with additional knifes hidden inside both articles of clothing. Brian's visor was now reinforced with safety glass to prevent any accidents. Lisa had finally obtained a helmet of her own, which had a distinctly Power Rangers vibe. The helmet itself was the violet of her costume, with a horizontal black strip serving as the visor. Several slits were present in front of the mouth, black as well with a mesh filter helping to keep out debris. Her Egyptian eye symbol was painted on the forehead.

Foresight nodded to the rest of us. "Okay, let's get going."

(BREAK)

Now that we were able to safely access Cerberus' shelters, she'd taken to alternating dogs to further train them and let the others get some rest. Currently, she had a good combination of strength, speed and agility. Bentley was an adorable, rotund bulldog with derpy eyes and a perpetual dopey smile. He loved to give cuddles and kisses. When enlarged, he was a living tank with a maw as wide as his shoulders that could open to engulf a creature larger than himself. Those jaws could likely bite through Lung, and his thick body made him incredibly resilient as well. Cassie was a rehabilitated greyhound, rescued from the dog-racing tracks. The poor thing was still shy around people but fiercely loyal to Rachel, who'd helped to heal her damaged legs. Her monstrous form was just as streamlined, able to move at unbelievable speeds. Flat-out, Cassie could outrun most performance cars. Twinkles was a standard poodle, a durable and versatile breed and easily the most laid-back of Rachel's dogs. When transformed, she could leap onto rooftops in a single bound and was fantastic for multi-front fights.

Cerberus took the lead on Bentley, with Grue and Imp on Twinkles and Regent riding Cassie along with Foresight. We tore down the street and arrived at 11, giving us enough time to get set up. Deputy Director Rennick was there in his capacity as PR liaison, giving us the rundown on how to present ourselves in the best light.

Rennick stepped up to me, his soft smile comforting. "Skitter, are you ready for this?"

I gave a mirthless chuckle. "No, but I'm here anyway."

"Just remember: you don't need to ingratiate yourself or suck up. People are already grateful to the Undersiders for your help in the war. Just be open, and don't worry about being awkward. Even if you come off like a total goof, it'll humanize you to the public and the villains won't care how you act since you can kick all their asses." He shot me a wink. "You're a good kid. You'll do fine."

That little bit of ordinary, banal, 'trying to connect with them young'uns' advice helped to ground me in reality and I shot him a thankful smile.

"It's time," one of the PRT troopers said as they opened the doors for us. A long podium with six microphones waited for us. We stepped up and I let Grue and Foresight take the center, flanked by Imp and Regent. Cerberus and I stood on either edge, our enormous beasts looming beside us. I gulped as I looked out at the crowd of reporters.

In addition to the usual questionably well-dressed journalist types, there were plenty of less put-together people just recording with their smartphones or digital recorders. Amateur reporters or cape-chasers; either way, they could – purposely or accidentally – add an entirely new spin on stories. Heroes caught muttering racial slurs, villains spotted breaking the rules; the balance of power could shift overnight thanks to a phone and a distinct lack of self-preservation.

Grue cleared his throat. "Thank you all for coming out today. This is a very important occasion for us. I'm sure that most of you recognize us as the Undersiders, a relatively low-level villain group whose highest-profile crime was robbing the Clams Casino back in December." He paused to let that sink in. "Fewer of you, perhaps, know us as the guardians of the docks and the surrounding neighborhoods during the Brockton Bay gang war. We held off both the ABB and Empire Eighty-Eight for several weeks, shutting down any attempted incursion into our territory. Furthermore, we were right there alongside the Protectorate in the final fight of the war. Skitter in particular," he gestured at me, "was instrumental in the defeat and capture of Lung, Menja, Oni Lee and Hookwolf." Grue paused yet again. "And now, we are taking the first steps into the next stage of our lives. We, the Undersiders, are officially a hero team. We will be operating as independents, much in the same way as New Wave, but we want to maintain a friendly work relationship with the PRT."

Immediately the crowd erupted with questions. As before, Grue muted them with his darkness. "Please, let's not have this become a media circus. One question at a time." He nodded to Foresight, who pointed into the crowd.

"You there, in the brown sport jacket," she indicated.

"Thank you. Stan Vickery, channel 12 news. If I may ask a question to you all, what prompted this change? It's not often that villains decide to be heroes."

I made a noise before I could even put together a thought, and all attention turned to me. I gripped Atlas' mind in a psychic bear-hug, desperately needing that stability. "I can't speak for all villains, but we – the Undersiders – were all essentially forced into villainy through unpleasant circumstances. When your trigger event kills someone and you don't understand how to defend yourself in court, your only way to remain free is to turn criminal. When the system fails you, you turn to other avenues for safety." I took a breath, steadying myself. Yeah, I could do this. "The war was an opportunity for us to act on our morals, rather than having to be villains because we'd been labeled villains. We wanted to help people, to keep innocents safe and stop the war from claiming more lives. We stepped up and fought for our city. And from that, we were finally able to jump through the legal hoops necessary to let us be the people we are."

"And why did you have to be independent? Surely, with the goodwill of the city behind you, you could have joined the Protectorate."

Foresight regarded Stan, studying him as she spoke. "An entire city, the lives of nearly a million people, hung in the balance and yet the national Protectorate did nothing. They were hamstrung by laws and regulations, and even the local branch's director risked termination for taking the action needed to save lives." She held up her hands in a placating gesture. "I'm not indicting the Protectorate; don't mistake me. An organization that massive and powerful _needs_ regulations to keep some tyrant from seizing power and overthrowing the government. But, at the same time, laws that restrict the upper echelons can be utterly crippling at the individual level. We are independent because the Protectorate needs us independent. We can do what they can't, and so we cooperate to make the city a safer place." She tilted her head and her playful smile was apparent even with her face concealed. "We're not here to replace them. We're here to shore up the foundation."

_Goddamn, Lisa. You managed to twist the knife in the Protectorate and yet uplift the local branch at the same time._ I took a moment to appreciate the level of talent that required.

Lisa pointed at someone else, a cape-chaser with a smartphone. She was a squat, moon-faced girl whose head was framed by a mop of blonde curls. "Blondie, you next."

"Um, yes, what's with the costume changes?"

"We felt that our rebranding was a good time to adjust and improve on our old outfits," Grue replied. "We've also had a couple of name changes. I was going to wait until the end to announce it, but now works just as well."

Foresight spoke up again. "My name is now Foresight, and she's Cerberus." She pointed to another reporter.

"Kellie Marten, channel 6. Grue, how did you become the Undersiders' leader?"

The big man shrugged. "It was an organic development. We didn't have a vote or anything. I was best at resolving conflict and keeping my cool, so I ended up as the leader. It's not a monarchy or anything, though, so I'm always open to advice from my teammates. In fact, it was Skitter who formulated much of our battle plans during the war."

A cape-chaser spoke up next, a painfully Irish boy whose head had more freckle than face. "Skitter, there's a rumor that you beat Lung on your first night as a cape. Is that true?"

Bizarrely, it was Cerberus who spoke up for me. "That's true. She was afraid of the reputation it'd get her, so she let Armsmaster take the credit. That's actually when we first met; we were coming to fight Lung too, but Skitter took him down before we could get there."

"Regent!"

I looked over to see who'd shouted that. The man was nothing special, in a button-up shirt and khakis and holding a voice recorder, but there was an odd intensity in his eyes. I sidled a bit closer to the brunet.

"Isn't it true that, before you came to Brockton Bay, you were known as Hijack, a notorious criminal and _murderer_ who worked with Heartbreaker himself!?"

I was going to remind Regent that he didn't have to respond, but he spoke up before I could. "Okay, first off, that question is way the hell out of line. Second, I was a little kid, a pre-teen, who was tortured until I cooperated with Heartbreaker. I've since been cleared of all charges." He stared the man down, his mask's vacant eyes boring into the accuser's pale amber ones. "I feel nothing but regret for what happened when I was younger, but I was a helpless child. Heartbreaker was immune to my powers so I couldn't even fight my way free. I can never bring back the people who died, but maybe I can prevent future deaths and somehow clear my karmic debt."

Again, I could feel the pain and the strength Regent normally kept hidden under his sarcasm and slapstick. For as overwhelmingly annoying as he could be, I had to respect him in a way.

"You want to blame me for the deaths I caused? That's fine; I do too. But a person is not defined solely by his crimes. Heartbreaker indulges in his evil and cruelty. He's irredeemable. I hope that I'm not that far gone."

The entire conference had gone silent. You could hear a press badge drop.

Stan cleared his throat. "Well, to change the topic, what exactly is that thing?" He pointed at Atlas.

While I was thankful for the new subject, I really, _really_ didn't want to reveal that I could create living things. Well, I could try to bullshit and half-truth my way around it. "I call him Atlas. He's a giant mutant beetle, apparently some sort of bio-tinker construct. I found him in the sewers and called him up to help fight Kaiser. Seems he likes me, since he followed me home." I patted his side. "He's a very nice bug, so I kept him."

Stan blanched. "_That_ was in the sewers? Are there others?"

I shook my head. "I don't feel any others. If the others are also bugs, I should be able to sense and control them. For now, looks like Atlas is the only one of his kind."

"Well," the reporter said as he recovered his composure, "at least we have a hero who can keep any more of them from causing trouble." He took a breath. "On that topic, what are your powers, anyway? That's to all of you."

"I make super-dogs," Cerberus grunted. She didn't opt to elaborate.

"Since people now know I used to be Hijack," Regent said the name like it left a bad taste in his mouth, "you know I can control people's limbs. And the villains should hopefully understand they shouldn't mess with us."

Grue formed some of his darkness in his hand. "I create supernatural darkness and can spread it with a large range." He briefly washed the entire parking lot in inky black.

Since everybody else was being very minimalistic with their descriptions, I followed the trend. "I control bugs." I had Atlas wave at the crowd with a leg.

"And I'm psychic," Foresight stated simply.

After several long seconds, the reporter realized they weren't getting anything more. The moon-faced girl was the first to speak up. "Wait, that's it? 'I'm psychic'? That's bull! The closest thing to psychic is the Simurgh and I don't see any wings!"

Foresight tilted her head. "Your favorite food is strawberry parfait and you have an irrational fear of toes."

The curly-haired blonde promptly shut up.

Grue spoke up again. "I think that's enough questions for today. I'll conclude with this: we're here to keep the innocent people of this city safe, but criminals shouldn't expect to get a fair fight. We are ex-villains and we know the value of ambushes and overkill. You try to screw with us, go after one of our own like what happened to Fleur, and we will bury you."

With that, Grue threw up a storm of darkness. We were halfway down the street by the time it dissipated and the reporters figured out which way was up.

I was honestly nervous about the conclusion. I understood that we didn't have the political or financial backing of other hero groups, and that we were indeed going to be darker, edgier and more dangerous, but I was worried we'd alienate the people and lose public support. At the same time, it was extremely important to remind the villains that we knew our way around crime and would destroy anyone who broke the rules. I tried to press deeper into Atlas' carapace. I couldn't help the feeling of dread that bubbled up from within me.


	28. Interlude: PHO

**Interlude 3.y**

**Welcome to the Parahumans Online Message Boards.**

You are currently logged in, XxVoid_CowboyxX

**+Topic: Undersiders!**

**In: Boards News Heroes America**

**FeeshyFeeshy** (Original Poster)

Posted on March 17, 2011:

I hadn't expected this. They look awesome! The speeches, the attitudes... Villains better watch out! What do you guys think? Any capes available to comment?

EDIT: Tin_Mother reminded me I need to contribute something to the discussion, so I'll just ramble a little. How come nobody addressed the littlest one? Imp, I think her name is. Also, Foresight used to be Tattletale, right? She's pretty cute! Wonder why the helmet now? And what about Skitter? She's hot but kinda creepy, and that bug gives me weird vibes.

**(Showing page 22 of 40)**

** Jazzhands** (PRT Wife)

Replied on March 17, 2011:

Rubber: Hubby says Skitter's a sweetheart in person, but from chatting with MM it's a good idea to NEVER piss her off. Girl can take down Lung by herself, after all. Nobody knows what power she has that's changing her like that. Could be a Case 53, but doesn't fit the profile. My guess is some sort of Crawler-style healing schtick.

** Spockzbrain**

Replied on March 17, 2011:

If Cerberus lost some weight she could be sexy. Who do you think is hotter, Skitter or Foresight?

** Nuclearpickles** (Veteran Member)

Replied on March 17, 2011:

Spockz: Dude, Tin_Mother is gonna come down on you so hard. You know she doesn't like those topics.

...But totally Skitter. I like fit girls.

** Tin_Mother** (Moderator)

Replied on March 17, 2011:

A lot of capes and cape fans are hormonal teenagers. Discussing who you find attractive isn't a ban-worthy offense. Just keep away from anything explicit or overtly sexual and you should be fine.

** Nuclearpickles** (Veteran Member)

Replied on March 17, 2011:

Holy crap, TM replied to something I wrote! And so, in the interest of equality, who do you think is hotter, Grue or Regent?

** Vista** (Verified Cape)

Replied on March 17, 2011:

Got to have lunch with Skitter and Regent a few days ago. Skitter's just as sweet as everybody else says. Wish she'd joined the Wards so we could hang out more. Regent...ugh, he's another Clockblocker. Didn't know he used to be Hijack, though. He struck me as a nice enough guy.

EDIT: pickles: Grue, definitely. I like big guys and I don't know him like a sibling like I do Browbeat and Aegis.

** General_Kwaang!**

Replied on March 17, 2011:

Rubber: I know, it makes me nervous too. Only bio-tinkers I can think of off the top of my head are Blasto and Bonesaw. Panacea might count but she can't do shit like that. Whoever made Skitter's bug could be a huge threat. Then again, nobody seems worried about that, so I'm guessing they know something we don't. Jazzhands, you heard anything?

Spockz: I prefer Foresight. I've always been partial to blondes and she has an awesome figure.

** Schweddyballz** (Veteran Member)

Replied on March 17, 2011:

Anybody else think the Undersiders will totally gank any villains they come across? They have crazy-good synergy: Foresight points out the enemy's position. Grue's darkness and Skitter's bugs shroud the baddies and harass them. Cerberus' dogs and that huge fucking beetle trample everybody. Then Regent and Imp pick off the stragglers.

Gotta admit, I'm still worried this is some sort of long con. But if not, I think these guys have the chance to really clean up the city.

** Foresight** (Verified Cape) (Yes, I'm Psychic)

Replied on March 17, 2011:

Let's see here...

Rubberbabybuggybumpers: You're smart. Got lots of ideas bouncing around in your head. You should see if you can intern with the PRT; they could use people spitting out theories like yours. And no, I'm not bullshitting you.

Spockzbrain: Skitter, definitely.

Schweddyballz: Good strategy, but we've already been doing that. Gotta mix things up to keep the baddies on their toes.

** FeeshyFeeshy** (Original Poster)

Replied on March 17, 2011:

Holy shit! Everybody put your pants on! Foresight's here!

(BREAK)

**+Topic: "The system failed us"**

**In: Boards Teams Protectorate**

**Chaturagh** (Original Poster) (Verified Cape)

Posted on March 17, 2011:

I was watching the Undersiders' news story and noticed that phrase (and variations) used a lot. References to the Protectorate not doing their job. Now, being a rogue myself, I don't have to worry about their rules. But I do worry for my non-powered friends. I can't always be around to protect them.

Why didn't the Protectorate step in to help protect Brockton Bay? Why is a town in Bumfuck Nigeria worth sending the world's heroes to counter an Endbringer appearance, yet nearly a million people don't warrant a batted eye? Were they just going to wall up the Bay like they did with Nilbog?

**(Showing page 3 of 3)**

** whitecollar** (Cape Wife)

Replied on March 17, 2011:

Chaturagh, this is the first I've heard of the Protectorate doing nothing. Hubby and I knew about a media blackout during the war, but we figured it was because of Nazi broadcasts and all sorts of dangerous politicking. If what the Undersiders said is true, we're both very, very worried.

** XxVoid_CowboyxX**

Replied on March 18, 2011:

I was pretty much at ground zero during the war and things were tense as hell. My aunt and uncle almost got killed by ABB. That said, I know the Protectorate's done some dumb stuff in the past, but I don't think they'd leave a whole city to die.

** Jazzhands** (PRT Wife)

Replied on March 18, 2011:

Cowboy: Some of it's apparently classified, but from what my husband and I can gather, yes, they would. We were denied all parahuman and PRT assistance and had to reach out to the National Guard in order to get basic supplies to the civilians. Something's very wrong.

** Miss_Militia** (Verified Cape) (Brockton Bay Protectorate)

Replied on March 18, 2011:

Can we please stop the speculations, at least for now? There's a reason police don't like information being released during an active investigation.

**(Thread is now closed)**

(BREAK)

**+Topic: Arcadia Reopening**

**In: Boards Places America Brockton Bay**

**Mark_Chang** (Original Poster) (Moderator: Verified Yugopotamian)

Posted on March 18, 2011

With school reopening in BB, that means the Wards will be back at classes. But, more importantly, it means that the Undersiders (or some of them) might be attending now that they're not wanted criminals anymore.

In addition to being a speculation thread about which classes a particular Ward or Undersider might prefer, this is also a reminder not to out a cape. If you think you have a parahuman's identity figured out, KEEP IT TO YOURSELF. It's a major breach of conduct to out a cape, and anything that happens to them or their loved ones will be on your head.

My own guesses with regards to the Undersiders:

I'm betting Cerberus likes math. Gruff people usually don't like the nuances of English and the variable answers. One right answer is preferable. Regent's theme almost makes me feel like I'm gonna be wrong, but I'll be the one to take the obvious guess and say he'll gravitate toward acting and drama electives. Grue...I think gym and home ec. Guys that comfortable in leathers are usually secure enough to do more "sissy" stuff. Foresight would probably just coast with her BS power, but maybe English could challenge her. Having to give her own interpretation of books might be something she'd have to work at.

Since Imp and Skitter weren't really with the team before they went hero, I don't have enough info to make guesses for them. Thoughts?

**(Showing page 16 of 17)**

** Silly_Rabbi**

Replied on March 18, 2011:

Maybe gymnastics for Skitter. You don't get a body like hers without a lot of exercise in skintight leotards. Mm-mm.

** BEEEEES!**

Replied on March 18, 2011:

xeno: being that im 12, i can look at imp and say "damn what a fine-ass looking woman!" without being creepy. seriously shes younger than foresight and just about as built. gonna grow up into a goddess.

** Son_Of_Shuma** (Veteran Member)

Replied on March 19, 2011:

That hair, those eyes? Skitter's like a goth kid's wet dream. I'd drop to one knee and beg her to go out with me.

Edit: To keep on-topic, I think Imp would like math or some other subject where you don't draw much attention. She seems really shy.

** XxVoid_CowboyxX**

Replied on March 19, 2011:

**User received an infraction for this post and content was deleted. What part of "Don't start discussing possible secret identities" did you not understand?**

(BREAK)

Greg logged out in disgust. Why did it seem like life was intentionally shitting on him? First he tried to get Taylor to go out with him and she turned him down, then his aunt and uncle lost their shop to the ABB, and now nobody on PHO would take him seriously. He was too irritated to even check his private messages. GstringGirl would just have to wait.

Greg stood up and started to pace, venting in his own mind. An infraction, just for mentioning who Skitter looked like? How would anybody know who Taylor Hebert was?

He froze in the middle of his mental ranting. Wait, what if...

Greg rushed back to the computer and opened up to the news, looking at the photos of the gathered Undersiders. Skitter was tall, probably almost six feet, and pale. While the hair was new, most of her face was hidden, and her muscles were far more prominent... "Holy fuck." No wonder he got an infraction! Skitter _was_ Taylor Hebert!

His first instinct was to try messaging her, but he didn't even know if she had an account. Instead, he decided he'd go over to her house tomorrow. He didn't know exactly what he'd say, but he'd think of something.


	29. Insinuation 01

**A/N:** Warning: This gets _dark_.

**Insinuation 4.01**

I spared a glance at the calendar on my wall, March 28th circled and marked in my dad's handwriting: _Arcadia_. Three days until high school resumed. In some ways it would be a fresh start; in others, it would be a dangerous return to rote.

"_Skitter? Focus, please."_

I looked back to the computer, where Miss Militia was resting her chin on her fist. "Sorry, Militia," I said sheepishly, blushing beneath my mask. "I'm just really tense."

"_That's completely understandable. But please, pay attention. I only have so much free time and I'd rather not have it wasted."_ I winced at that subtle admonishment. _"Where were we? Oh, right. You're in Homeroom 4, along with the Dallon sisters. We put Cerberus in Homeroom 6, which has the same lunch schedule, since she'll need support from her friends. Regent is in Homeroom 1; as a junior, his schedule doesn't sync well with yours."_ Her eyes crinkled in a soft smile. _"Honestly, I think you'll be just fine. Did you manage to download the books?"_

I nodded. "Thank you for setting me up with a Wards policy. The discount really helped, and I got audiobooks for Cerberus."

Miss Militia's smile widened. _"That's wonderful. And it was Deputy Rennick who got you set up. I may be Protectorate liaison to the Wards, but I don't have authority over PRT resources."_

"Well, please pass along my thanks, and thank you for taking the time to chat with me. I always enjoy our talks," I said honestly.

"_So do I. I'd like to–"_ She was cut off when Lisa hollered my name, the blonde's tone rather urgent. _"...You should probably attend to that. I'll talk to you later."_ The brunette logged out of video chat.

"One second," I called down the hall as I changed out of my costume. While Miss Militia knew my civilian identity, she was drilling it into me that it was good policy to always be in costume for cape business. I shut the costume away in my closet's false back panel and threw on some shorts and a V-neck shirt, still just barely fitting my hair through the collar. "Okay, I'm coming!"

I jackhammer-bounced down the stairs like Bluto from _Animal House_. I sent some bugs ahead to see what was up, and found Lisa standing tensely in the front room. Opposite her was a tall, gangly, knobby-limbed boy with a mop of beige curls atop his head. The visitor was someone I recognized instantly even through my insects' meager understanding of human appearances. I paused on the stairs. What was Greg fucking Veder doing at my house?

At first I thought Lisa must have made a mistake in letting him in, but then I remembered who I was thinking of: Lisa wasn't careless enough for that. Greg must have said or done something that led to her bringing him inside and shutting the door. I clenched my fists and took a deep, calming breath. Just to be safe, I reached out to Atlas and kept him on standby to draw away stress. Moving much more slowly, I descended the last flight of stairs to stand beside Lisa.

"H-hi, Taylor," Greg smiled. Nervous but excitable, just as I remembered him.

I didn't return the smile. "Greg, what are you doing here?"

"He told me he knew your secret, at which point I yanked him in," Lisa explained.

"The secret that I'm Skitter?" I scoffed and tossed a lock of my mutant hair. "Yeah, big secret. I just didn't want people knowing until I had a proper headquarters and the Undersiders got their pardons. The question I have is, how the hell did you find me? I never gave anybody at Winslow my new address."

Greg shrugged. "When I saw you weren't at your old place, I looked up recent purchases on Zillow and found this place in your dad's name." Shit, that was actually kind of clever. Now I was more thankful than ever that Atlas was in the basement, in case villains tried the same trick.

"And you thought it was a good idea to walk up to a cape's house and blab that you know her identity?" Lisa folded her arms and glowered down at him as best she could, considering he had a few inches on her.

"I was hoping I could be your backup." His chipper attitude hadn't been dampened in the slightest. "New Wave has their law firm, the Protectorate has the PRT; the Undersiders need non-capes to help 'em out, right?"

My luminous eyes narrowed. "Veder, you do realize I'm a former villain, right? A former villain you're essentially outing? What's to stop me from just gutting you and dumping your body in my basement? I'm sure Atlas could use the snack."

Apparently Greg didn't think I was serious, because he just smirked. "C'mon, Taylor, you wouldn't do that to an old friend, would you?"

Oh, how I wished the world had a pause button. I would have loved to have a few extra hours to process that. Old friend? Greg thought we were old friends? Why, because he pseudo-stalked me throughout high school and asked me out one time?

Lisa stepped in front of me just as my mouth started working on its own. "Old friend? What the fuck have you ever done to be my friend, Greg? You hid whenever I tried to bring up my bullying. You never once stood up for me. You asked me out just after I'd gotten done _crying my eyes out_!" I felt my ribcage bump Lisa's shoulder and realized I'd been stalking forward.

The curly-haired boy blinked, his confusion seeming genuine. "If I'd spoken up, they'd have just ganged up on me too. It's not like it'd make a difference–"

"_It would have made a difference to me_!" My voice had cracked but I didn't care. "Maybe if I'd known I wasn't alone, that even _one person_ was there to defend me, maybe I would've had the courage to fight back sooner! Maybe I wouldn't have become this!" I extended the claws on my right hand.

"But you look badass! And you're powerful enough to take down Lung!"

Good god, he really didn't get it. I was equal parts insulted and pitying. A cape geek like him not realizing the damage trigger events did? Or did he just not care, since he hadn't been the one to suffer? I pushed forward again and Lisa turned and looked at me, her green eyes locking on my orange spheres. We were practically having a conversation just through our gaze.

_I can't let you go off the handle._

_I won't._

_You're upset._

_I can control myself. I need to vent._

_I'm with you._

I stalked around Lisa and grabbed two handfuls of Greg's shirt, slamming him up against the door. "Do you understand," I hissed through clenched teeth, "what a trigger event is? How it occurs?" A deep, inhuman growl tore free from my throat when I saw him nod. "And you think that's a good thing? That I suffered a psychotic break? That I was in a coma? That I look in the mirror every day and see a _monster_!?" I jerked him back and then plastered him against the door once again.

"But you're not a monster! You're beautiful! I've always thought so!"

Sweet crispy Jesus, he actually had feelings for me? "Alright, forgetting everything else you _didn't_ do, you couldn't even be fucking bothered to send me a 'Get Well Soon' card after I got out of the hospital!?" I didn't give him a chance to respond, a nightmarish scream of rage erupting from me.

In an instant Lisa was between the two of us, pushing me back. While I doubted she could really move me, I didn't want her getting hurt in the crossfire so I relented.

"Fuck me, Taylor, get ahold of yourself! I know this is dredging up a lot of the demons from your past, but calm your tits!" Lisa's face was less than an inch from mine. Two sets of instincts – human and insect – warred within me. In the end, the human side won out and I took another step back.

The blonde turned back to Greg, whose face was now a mask of confusion and fear. Perhaps he'd finally realized what a literal and metaphorical hornet's nest he'd stirred up. "Now, seriously, what the hell were you thinking? You'd just walk up, say, 'Hey there, Taylor! It's me, the creeper you barely know! I know your secret so let's be friends'?"

The boy opened his mouth to retort but Lisa steamrolled him, dipping into her power. "How can you think of yourself as her friend? You did nothing to support or protect her, yet you think yourself entitled to her affection? She should go out with you because you're both outcasts? You claim to care about her yet can't make the smallest effort or sacrifice on your part!" She paused, letting her words sink in, then softened her tone. "Greg, you're self-centered in the extreme. That's not an insult, but a statement. You don't expend any thought or care on other people yet expect them to do for you what you won't for them. I suggest you go home, take a long look in the mirror, and think about what you're doing – or not doing – that makes people react so negatively to you."

She opened the door for him. "Taylor thinks your a bad person, but I don't. I think you're just a stupid kid who needs to grow up. If you can figure out where you're going wrong and are willing to make a change, I think you'll be a decent guy. But no, you'll never have a chance with Taylor."

Greg turned back to her, looking over her shoulder at me, and opened his mouth.

Lisa dug her nails into his shoulder hard enough to make him yelp. "You've burned that bridge. Fuck, you nuked it. Just leave it and try to make your own life. And no, you don't need to worry about Taylor. She'll be outing herself soon enough, and she has the Undersiders, her dad, and me to keep her safe." She gave him a shove out and locked the door behind him.

I dropped to my knees and started to cry.

Lisa make a textbook rockstar knee-slide to end up beside me, hugging me close. "Shh, it's alright. It's okay. I know." She petted my hair.

"I wanted to h-hurt him," I whimpered. "If you hadn't been there...what's wrong with me?"

"No, Taylor, you're not a monster," Lisa whispered, nipping that particular train of thought in the bud. "You're a traumatized girl who's still recovering from three nightmarish years." She kissed my temple. "You were confronted by someone who didn't know or care about your pain but claimed to understand you. Anybody would be insulted, but add lingering psychological scars on top of that and you've got a recipe for even the most peaceful person to become violent." She looped my arm over her shoulders. "C'mon, let's – mrf – let's get you over to the couch. You can just rest for a while."

"I'm fucking pathetic," I chuckled at myself.

"Not at all. Fighting villains, murderers and giant monsters? That's easy. Living life is hard." Lisa got me seated on the sofa. "You're strong, Taylor. You're a good person. And you're pretty cute to top it off." She winked at me. "I'll get some tea brewing. Feel free to lay down if you need it. You need a blanket?" I didn't reply but it seemed she figured out the answer anyway. "I'll get you a blanket too."

I let myself slump. For the first time, I found myself wishing that things weren't going so well. Brian and Aisha were house-hunting, Rachel was making the rounds with her shelters and she'd conscripted Alec to help her with the paperwork, and dad was overseeing a citywide water-pipe overhaul.

I wanted them all here, to hold me and make me feel safe. I even wanted Emma.

I wanted mom.

(BREAK)

I was lethargic well into the night, utterly exhausted from the surge of emotion and old pains. I went to bed early and dad tucked me in. I ended up crying myself to sleep. Self-pity and self-disgust warred for control of my dreams as all my old repressed fears came out to play.

Alexandria leading a hunt for my head.

The Slaughterhouse 9 coming to recruit me.

Coil taking my father hostage to use me as a tool.

Sophia looming over me, that familiar hateful sneer playing across her face as she smothered me. _Wait, this isn't a dream..._ I clawed at her arm, but whatever drug she was forcing me to inhale had already worked too well and my fingers were too numb to find purchase. My vision blurred and I knew no more.

(BREAK)

Cold.

So fucking cold.

I tried to huddle in on myself and discovered that I was bound by chains. I whimpered and shivered, which brought about the next horrific realization: I was naked.

Panic forced my eyes to focus, melting through the drug-induced haze. I was in a concrete-floored basement, chained to a metal chair. With the toppled shelves and various bits scattered around, I presumed this was the basement to a store that had been vacated in the war and wasn't yet cleared for business again.

_Okay, Taylor. Rein it in. Don't panic. What would Lisa do?_ I took in a deep breath, reaching out for Atlas. I could feel him, at the very edge of my consciousness. I couldn't quite control him; apparently he was out of my range, but I could still siphon my stress into him. I wasn't sure at all if it would work, but I tried to send a mental command: _Come_.

I twisted my wrists, feeling the chains around them. They were secured around my wrists, bound so tightly that pain was beginning to register as my conscious mind continued to return to me. My ankles were likewise secured, the chains padlocked to the chair and one another, a psychopath's version of the hog-tie.

I couldn't see any door or stairs, which meant the exit must be behind me. _Try to turn around, but don't make noise_. Easier thought than done: the chair didn't have rubber feet, so the metal tubes made a horrendous scraping noise against the concrete. I stopped almost immediately.

My power was coming back. Now it wasn't just Atlas I could sense. Bugs everywhere, I tried to draw them to my position. No good, at least not yet. The entire building had been doused in some sort of highly potent insecticide, so crawlers were right out. Additional scent packs and smokers were set upstairs to disorient or kill my fliers. Shit, this was very well-planned.

I heard a door open behind me, stairs creaking. Two sets of creaking stairs. Two people.

"Your lazy ass is finally awake, huh?" _Sophia_. "I was starting to think you might disappoint me and not wake up."

"Of course it's you, Hess," I sneered. "You'd need to tie me up beforehand, make sure I can't fight back. Pussy." Outside, I changed my plan of action. I sent the bugs out as far as I could. Swarms of flies, illuminated by fireflies, hovered above the building and in the general area: _911_, above an arrow pointing to the store. Ants and other crawlers, similarly, set up signs on streets, sidewalks, walls, and inside any building I could get them into.

My world blurred, pain the only constant. Sophia had struck me with something heavy and metallic. A pipe, maybe, or a wrench.

"What's the plan, Hebert? Make me cry until I let you go?" She brought the monkey wrench down on my knee and only my subdermal reinforcements kept the joint from breaking outright, though I did cry out in pain. "You need to understand your place, Taylor. No matter how much power you might have, you're still fucking prey." She flicked open a switchblade.

The second person grabbed me by the hair, yanking back as hard as they could. I thought the tendrils were going to rip from my head, but they didn't. Instead, the person – now I could see she was a large, stocky and ugly girl – held my head in place.

Sophia loomed over me. "Let's start by reminding you of what you are for the rest of your life." She lowered the blade toward me.

I screamed as the metal pierced my flesh, carving into my forehead. She was cutting letters into my head. I thrashed my body as best I could, tried to turn my head away, but the other girl was strong and had leverage. Blood ran down my head and into my eyes.

I gasped for air. I had to get talking again, had to stall her until help could arrive. "You're a joke," I wheezed. "Y'see, I learned some more about trigger events and powers. And yours, Sophia, is all about running away. You talk tough, say you're a predator, but you're just a fucking _cowa–_"

The wrench crashed into my jaw and my head snapped to the side. My neck screeched with pain while my jaw refused to work right. As I tried to talk through a bitten tongue and cottonmouth, I realized my mandible was dislocated. Maybe even broken.

I forced myself to laugh through the pain. "You can't take the truth," I taunted her, though my words were horribly slurred. "Does your friend here know what a pussy you are? How you run away from any fight you can't rig?"

Sophia grabbed me by the neck, her eyes burning with hate. She drove the knife into my gut, all the way to the hilt. And then again. "Laugh all you want, Hebert. You're going to die here, crying in your own blood." Her voice was cold and sharp as the steel of the knife.

"Soph," the other girl said in a voice far more high-pitched than I would have expected, "can we just kill her? I don't know how long the anti-bug stuff will last and I'd rather not get swarmed with spiders."

"Not yet!" Sophia's voice was as close to a roar as the standard human larynx could get. "This little cunt needs to know her place before she dies! I want to see her _broken_!" She took the wrench in both hands and swung it like a golf club, right into my ribcage.

I felt one of the bones crack and gritted my teeth, trying not to scream. I yelped in surprise instead as the impact sent me tumbling backward until the other girl caught the chair and set me upright again. The shock made my reservoir churn. _Wait, I can feel my reservoir again! Change of plans_. I just needed to stall a bit longer.

"You'll never break me, Sophia. Because you're weak. You're a coward and a broken excuse for a person. You're a failure in every way, Sophia Hess." I tugged at my chains, wanting them to focus on my limbs. "I'm going to kill you."

Sophia let out a deep belly laugh at that. "You don't have the guts for that, Hebert!" She struck me in the elbow and the joint snapped. "Lara, get the kerosene!"

I couldn't hold back the scream as my arm broke. "I've been through so much in my life, Hess," I snarled. "You don't even rate as an annoyance. You're a parasite, and I won't even bat an eye when I squash you."

Reality went red and black. I could hear myself wailing in agony. Sophia tore the knife out of my skull and my vision swam. I could only see out of one eye. She'd gouged my eye out! Blood and tears ran down my face as I choked on sheer pain.

"Shut UP, you stupid bitch! I'm going to carve you up into little pieces and mail your parts to your dad, one chunk at a time!" She stabbed me in the stomach, a shallow cut, and dragged it down to my pelvis. Her smile would haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life. "They say nobody wants to die a virgin..." She drew her hand back, winding up.

_Come on, body! Please!_ I could feel that my reservoir was using most of the slime in an attempt to regenerate the damage like it had done when Panacea healed me. Through tremendous force of will, I gathered some of it and shaped it. She was too close for me to safely use bomb-bugs without getting caught in the spray. I went for yellow widows instead.

I glared defiantly at her and let out a guttural scream. My jaw unhinged itself and a swarm of enraged mutant insects issued forth from my throat, driving their deadly stingers at the two women. Sophia drove the knife into me as retaliation before she turned into the black cloud, while Lara hurled the tank of kerosene at me. It struck me in my broken arm and knocked me over, the pungent liquid spilling over and around me.

Sophia threw a lighter at me, the rectangle flicking open and coming to life as it solidified. The kerosene erupted in flame and the licking heat engulfed me. The pain was overwhelming, omnipresent, yet I felt no real damage. I guessed that Lisa must have been right about my honeycombs. I tried to roll on the ground, shifting the chair but ineffectually.

My widows, dying from the heat and smoke, continued to impale Lara and inject her with their deadly payload. She wouldn't survive the night.

The wall exploded inward. Glory Girl had crashed through, and Shielder was following close behind. Sophia, still in her shadow form, tried to escape by rushing past them.

_No._

I focused on Shielder, aiming as best I could, and spat a single bomb-bug. He raised a forcefield out of reflex just in time to save his life, the living explosive bursting against it in a shower of neon green that actually tried to eat through the energy field. More importantly, however, was where that shower of green ended up. The deadly alkaline rained down onto – and through – Sophia's Breaker form.

One moment she was an amorphous mass, the next she was on the ground gurgling out pitiful screams, pieces of her separated or missing altogether. The screams died as her lungs melted away, and she gave her death rattle.

"Oh my god, Skitter..." Glory Girl scooped me up, heedless of the fire on my body, and lifted me into the air. "We'll get you help. Just, please, hold on..."

I felt the wind on my naked form as we flew.


	30. Interlude: Emergency

**Interlude 4.x**

The noise was like a construction site. Crashing, buzzing and stomping shook the house and the dogs were going berserk. Bentley stood like a true soldier beside the bed, barking at the door. Cassie hid behind the mattress and Twinkles stood protectively over her mistress, ready to fight.

Rachel crawled out from beneath the poodle and grabbed her mask before flinging open the door. Lisa was already in the hall, domino mask over her eyes, while Brian and Alec were a bit slower to respond. Danny came quite literally screaming down the stairs. "Taylor's gone," he bellowed the moment he saw the teens.

"That must be Atlas freaking out, then," Aisha said, Imp mask in hand. "I'll go let him out! You guys figure out what happened!"

Rachel barreled past the others and was up the stairs even before Aisha had finished speaking. "C'mon," she hollered without even bothering to look over her shoulder.

Taylor's room was, for the most part, untouched. The bed was in disarray, sheets thrown on the floor, and several items had been knocked off the nightstand. What struck Rachel the most was the open window. A thick zipline cable was seemingly phased through the ceiling of Taylor's room and let outside to a piton lodged in a distant building.

"Shadow Stalker," Brian and Lisa snarled almost in unison. The big man stalked forward and inspected the window. "Why didn't the alarm go off?"

Lisa pointed. "The window's not open; the pane is gone. She must've unlocked it and phased it loose, which somehow screwed with the wiring."

"How'd she know to do that? How'd she know she _could_ do that?" Rachel was having Bentley try to pick up on Taylor's scent to track the girl.

"She's had over a month to prepare and experiment," Alec commented. "Probably was planning this at the old house."

"God damn it!" Lisa punched the wall. "My power's not giving me anything on where they took her! What do we do now!?"

A buzzing heralded Atlas' appearance at the window, Aisha on his back. "We follow this guy," the young girl replied as she donned her mask. "He wants to get moving and I think he knows where he's going."

Rachel again stormed ahead of everyone else, the dogs following at her heels. By the time they reached the ground floor, the animals were almost too big for the stairwell. She leapt atop Twinkles the moment the poodle was big enough. The other dogs knew the procedure and waited patiently for the humans to climb aboard before dashing off.

In one leap and a little clawing, Twinkles was bounding across the rooftops. Rachel steered the dog to follow Atlas and Aisha, keeping the glistening beetle in her sight at all times. Atlas was headed in the direction of the docks, which made sense to Rachel. Shadow Stalker probably already had a place picked out and wouldn't have had the time to refurbish another location when she discovered the Heberts had moved. She grabbed her phone while she rode and pushed 7 on her speed dial. While Lisa had helped her type in the other contact names, Rachel was literate enough to spell PRT by herself.

"_Parahuman Response Team, what is the nature of your emergency?"_

"Skitter's been kidnapped!" Her voice came out in a scream and Rachel realized how much she was feeling, how deeply worried she was for her friend. "We're heading toward the docks, following Atlas. Send backup!"

"_Um, alright, who are you and who is this Atlas?"_

"We're the Undersiders and Atlas is her bug, fucknut! Backtrace my triangles or whatever the fuck you cocksuckers do and figure out where I'm going! A psycho killer has my friend!" Warm wetness ran down Rachel's face, the tears falling freely as her panic made itself known. Taylor could die. Her sister could _die_.

"_A-alright, stay on the line and we'll trace your signal. We're mobilizing a PRT squad now."_

Rachel tucked the phone into her pocket, leaving the call active, and dug her heels into Twinkles' ribs. The dog yeped slightly but sped up, pouring all of her effort into following the beetle. The dirty blonde's vision tunneled and she squinted her eyes to focus. Every fiber of her being was focused on the chase, the urgency. Twinkles leapt from rooftop to rooftop, claws gouging divots in industrial roofs and tearing shingles off civilian houses.

Ahead, a column of smoke began to rise. Rachel's heart leapt into her throat. _Please don't be dead. Please don't be dead_.

Atlas came to a halt and Rachel slowed Twinkles to a gradual stop. It was hard to see with the smoke and dancing firelight, but two figures floated in the air: one in blue and white, the other in yellow and white. Glory Girl and Shielder, she suspected. Glory Girl had a body in her arms, a naked body from what she could see. Her blood ran cold.

"Is she okay?" Instead of a bellow, Rachel's question came out of a cracking voice and she coughed at the tail end of it.

"I'm not sure," the blonde bombshell shouted back. "We need to get her to Panacea!" She flew off in a new direction and Rachel pulled her phone back out.

"Where I'm at now is where Skitter was taken," she said in a harsh tone. "We're getting her help now. You clean up the mess." She hung up and once again spurred Twinkles to give chase.

(BREAK)

The Dallons lived in a high-end condo on the east side of town. Glory Girl landed, cradling Taylor in her arms, and shifted the wounded naked girl to rest on her shoulder. The blonde hiked up her skirt to access a pocket in her shorts and swiped a card. She turned to smile at Shielder. "Thanks, Eric. You can head home now. Give my love to Aunt Sarah."

Shielder patted his cousin on the shoulder. "Okay, V. Good luck." He lifted into the air and floated off.

Already letting the dogs shrink, Rachel hopped off Twinkles and trotted up behind Glory Girl. "You're letting us come up." It wasn't a question and, after taking a look at her, the heroine just nodded and left the door open.

The dogs hurried with her and the rest of the Undersiders followed, with Danny in tow. Glory Girl floated up the stairs, moving slowly enough to allow the others to follow. The Dallon condo was one of four on the sixth floor, exquisitely furnished as only a law partner's salary could allow. After unlocking the door, Victoria kicked it in. "Amy!"

After some clunking, two doors burst open. Carol and Mark Dallon staggered out of the master bedroom, partly clothed and bleary-eyed. Carol's long, dark-blonde hair was frizzed all around her head. Amy Dallon's hair was even worse than her mother's, looking like a brown afro as she poked her head out of her room.

"Vicky, what–" Amy's eyes practically bugged out of her head as she saw the package in Victoria's arms. "No! No! No, no, no!" She ducked back into her room and slammed the door.

Glory Girl flew over to Panacea's door and pounded on it. "Ames, this girl is almost dead! She _needs_ your help!"

"NO!" Amy's voice cracked as she screamed. "Take her away!"

_Take her away?_ Rachel snarled and stomped toward Amy's room. Lisa rested her hand on the bulkier girl's shoulder. "Cerberus? Let me handle this, please." Lisa stepped closer to the door and opened her mouth but was cut off by Brandish's scream.

"What is that thing!?" The Dallon matriarch pointed at the window, where an enormous insectoid form obscured the usual view of the city.

"That's just Atlas. Calm your tits." Aisha gave a long-suffering sigh from the couch, where she had her feet propped up on the coffee table. "He wants to make sure Skitter's okay."

Potential crisis averted, Rachel turned her gaze back to Panacea's room as Lisa knocked on the door.

"Amy?" The smallest blonde raised her voice to make sure she was heard. "It's Foresight. Please, can you tell us why Skitter has you so upset?"

"Just go away!" Amy's voice was thick from crying.

"I get that you're feeling guilty, but why? What is there to be–" Lisa's eyes widened. "Oh, I get it." She rested her hand on the door. "Amy, it's not your fault. You did nothing wrong."

The brunette's laugh was manic. "Nothing wrong? Have you _seen_ her!?"

"Wait a sec," Rachel said as the pieces fit together in her mind. "She thinks she's the one who made Skitter look like that?" She glanced back at Lisa. "Can she even do that?" If Panacea could make such significant changes, why didn't she do more? Couldn't she, say, augment Battery's muscles to make the woman more dangerous to villains? Or turn off powers like Crawler's? _Christ, no wonder she's a Striker instead of a Tinker_.

Lisa nodded in reply, then turned back to the locked door. "You didn't make those changes, Amy. They're natural adaptations. You've seen the potential for mutation she has, the Breaker abilities in her DNA. All of her changes are designed to help her survive a fight like the end of the war again." She stepped back. "Come see for yourself, Amy. She was set on fire yet she has no burns. She was beaten with a chunk of metal yet only has two wounded joints." She slapped on the door. "Look, just come out and examine her. If you don't believe me, we'll leave."

Finally the door creaked open and Panacea peeked out. "You're not going to go away otherwise, are you?" She let out a defeated sigh when Foresight shook her head. "Fine."

Even Rachel could recognize the tone of someone awaiting bad news. Panacea was fully prepared to find that her suspicions were correct and Taylor was a monster of the brunette's creation. Amy walked over to the couch and saw Taylor, still nude, a blanket draped over her for modesty's sake while her head rested in Imp's lap and a man, presumably her father, cradled her body. She moved slower than refrigerated maple syrup, hand shaking ever so slightly when she finally reached out to touch the girl. Amy rested her fingers on Taylor's forehead, where the word 'PREY' had been carved into her skin.

"Oh my god," she gasped as she understood the damage. "Why...who would do this?" She looked around, desperate for answers. "Why was she stabbed...there!?"

"Shadow Stalker," Rachel replied.

"She used to torture Skitter in her civilian identity, and it's because of Skitter that Shadow Stalker got locked up," Brian expounded.

"You won't have to worry about her anymore," Glory Girl spoke up. "She's dead."

The others looked at Victoria in surprise but opted not to ask for fear of giving Amy the chance to scurry away once again.

Panacea clenched her eyes shut, desperately trying to focus on Skitter's present body rather than the potential evolutionary strands. "Impact reduction...heat-retardant substances..." Her eyes snapped open. "Sweet fuck! I didn't even know that was possible!" She looked over at Foresight, chocolate-brown eyes still bugging out of her head. "Okay, I believe you, because I _definitely_ didn't do this. I don't do brains."

"Do what?" Lisa asked. In an instant all of the Undersiders were at the couch, except for Regent who was raiding the Dallons' fridge.

"I can't tell too much while she's unconscious, but her hair here?" Amy poked at one of the thick strands. "It's connected directly to her brain and seems to have some advanced...fuck, I don't even know what to call it. Biological runtimes? Somehow her brain has engineered itself to pick up mental signals from other living beings. I don't know how well it functions, but..." She shook her head. "Now I'm not sure I should heal her for moral reasons. She could–"

Danny Hebert grabbed Amy by her collar and yanked her down to his level. His eyes bristled with tears and barely restrained fury. "Now you listen here," he hissed through clenched teeth, voice shaking. "That's my only daughter, my baby girl. She's also the last part of my wife I have left in this world. If you don't save her, then I have nothing left to live for. And I promise you, I'll take away everything _you_ have to live for..."

Flashbang grabbed Danny by the back of the neck. "I'll thank you to release my daughter, sir, and not threaten her."

Despite being in the presence of three extremely powerful heroes and a potential walking genocide in the form of Panacea, Danny didn't back down. He looked back and locked eyes with Mark Dallon. "And I'll thank your daughter to save mine. If she doesn't, that's not a threat. It's a sworn oath."

Rachel crouched slightly, a growl rumbling in her throat. If anyone tried hurting Danny... The dogs' bodies cracked in response to her thoughts. The rest of the team were likewise at the ready: even Regent had set aside the Dagwood sandwich he'd been building to prepare for a fight.

"You really love her, don't you?" Amy's voice sliced through the tension and Danny looked back to her.

"She was the world to my wife and me. She's my life. I fucked up and almost lost her once; I'm never going to let that happen again. I don't care if I get killed in the process. I'll do everything I can to protect my daughter."

Amy nodded and placed her hand back on Skitter's forehead. "Lean back and brace yourself. Some patients have been known to thrash as nerves repair themselves."

Taylor's body arched violently as she took in a desperate gasp of air. Her limbs spasmed, tendons audibly snapping as her body regenerated. The letters in her forehead knitted together, turned to pale scars, then finally disappeared. The knife wounds likewise closed and erased any evidence they had ever been there. The girl's skin bulged and rippled as things moved beneath it, and even more strands of hair burst from her scalp.

Skitter's eyes snapped open, revealing that they had changed yet again. No longer glowing, they were now slitted like a reptile's (_Like the raptor's_, Rachel thought) and sported irises the color of liquid gold. She panted, looking around at the people gathered, not recognizing the room she was in.

"...What the fuck just happened!?"


	31. Insinuation 02

**Insinuation 4.2**

"...What the fuck just happened!?"

Probably a less specific question than I should have asked, but after a nightmare like that, waking up in my dad's arms, something must've happened. _Wait..._ I was naked under the sheet. Amy Dallon and her sister were staring at me. Mark Dallon loomed over dad while his wife stood guard at the window.

"Oh. Oh fuck. That...wasn't a nightmare, was it?" I didn't need confirmation. "Oh god..." I rolled onto my side and vomited, a thick flood of my purple slime pouring onto the floor. It died out after only a couple of heaves and I curled in on myself, crying.

Dad hugged me tight and Aisha petted my hair. Then the three of us grunted when Rachel pounced me with a bearhug that might've broken my ribs were I normal. And the rest of the Undersiders joined the dogpile.

Through the window, over Carol Dallon's shoulder, Atlas saw the whole thing. I could see the spectacle from his perspective and couldn't help giggling. "We look ridiculous," I snickered. I gently pushed them away and sat up between dad and Aisha, then looked at the Dallon sisters. "Victoria, Amy, thank you so much. I..." I gave another near-hysterical giggle. "I'm barely holding it all together. What happened at the end, when you rescued me?"

The statuesque blonde folded her legs under herself and floated over so I didn't have to keep looking between her and Amy. The brunette leaned ever-so-slightly closer to Victoria. "Your bugs were tearing the one girl apart, and Shadow Stalker tried to make a break for it. You spit something that popped on Shielder's forcefield, and it...dissolved her. She dropped out of her smoke form in pieces. She's dead."

"Y'know," Brian (wait, Grue. He was in his mask) spoke up, "I'm surprised you're so casual about that, being a second-generation hero. No lecture on how there was a better way?"

Victoria's expression barely changed but her tone grew much colder. "You saw what she did to Skitter." She looked back to me. "I don't blame you one bit for what you did. Would I have preferred for her to be taken alive? Sure. But I'm not gonna shed a tear or lose a minute of sleep over someone that evil."

I leaned back into the couch, the tension melting out of my body. "Then it's over," I sighed. "I'll admit, I thought about killing her. A lot, and especially after I got my powers. But I never really intended to." I shrugged. "Might not have been the closure I wanted, but it's closure all the same."

Foresight took out her phone, typed a quick note, and put it back.

I quirked a brow at her but decided to put that particular question on the back-burner. Lisa was usually a motor-mouth whenever it came to having figured something out, unless the discovery was sensitive or dangerous. If she didn't want to speak up now, I could wait. "So, since I got healed, did I have more changes?"

Foresight nodded. "Definitely. I could take some guesses, but Panacea's here." She smiled to the frizzy-headed girl. "Would you be up for giving us a diagnostic?"

"...Sure," Amy said after several long seconds of thought. "I'll admit, I'm curious too." She took my hand in hers and closed her eyes, focusing on her power. "Okay... Digestive system completely removed, secondary chemical bladder's been expanded to take up the vacated space. There's some sort of subdermal carapace that's grown out of the preexisting honeycomb structure. Uh, more 'hair' and increased sensitivity to external signals, as well as a nearly doubled transmission range."

I nodded at that. "Yeah, I can feel that. My reach is a lot bigger now."

"Other than that, your changes are mostly superficial," Amy concluded. When I gave her a look, she sighed and continued with a blush. "Okay, fine. Your eyes don't glow anymore and are slitted instead. Your waist is a little thinner, possibly from the removal of your intestines, and your boobs and butt are slightly enlarged. Happy?"

I blushed as well. "Okay...any theory as to _why_ that happened?"

"That's easy," Foresight replied. "You said yourself you see a monster in the mirror. Those alterations were obviously a subconscious desire to be more human and, if that wasn't exactly possible, more pretty. You're a bit curvier and your most offputting aspect – your eyes – is changed to be less scary."

I looked back to dad, needing him to weigh in. Even if he disapproved, I needed to hear him say something.

"You're still my little owl, Taylor. Nothing will ever change that. I love you no matter what, but if you need this to feel better about yourself, I'm not going to argue."

I hugged him tight.

"So," Cerberus spoke up, still draping herself over the back of the couch, "what'd all the medical yammer mean, anyway? Subdural carparks and shit? Us normal people need translations."

"I'll explain it to you later, Cerberus," Foresight smiled. "For now, though, you should call the PRT and let them know Skitter's okay, maybe get an update on anything they found out." She turned back to Panacea. "Amy, could I talk to you in private for a moment? I think I have some things you'll want to hear."

The brunette inclined her head, regarding Foresight with curiosity, and they went off into Amy's room.

Brian looked toward Flashbang. "Would you mind if we made ourselves at home for the moment? I'd like to wait while Foresight talks with your daughter, and Skitter probably needs to sit and rest for longer, all things considered."

Mark grunted. "After seeing her like that?" he gestured at me. "Feel free." He looked back to his wife. "Carol, she's awake now. If the bug hasn't attacked yet, he won't now. Come sit down before you give me a complex."

Oh, Atlas was at the window, wasn't he? I touched my mind to his and felt his relief. I couldn't help the big, dopey grin that split my face. Atlas was such a sweetheart. I had him flutter up to the roof and rest his weary feet. "There, he's taking a break now. Little sweetie." I felt Atlas tuck his legs beneath himself and settle in for a nap.

Victoria laughed. "'Little sweetie', she says about a deathbug the size of a minivan."

We all chuckled and the others started to make small talk. I took the chance to surreptitiously form an earbug out of the slime on the floor while I also made a mutant pillbug to suck up the rest of the goo. The earbug buzzed its way into Panacea's room and I focused on the input it received.

(BREAK)

"Look," Lisa said, "I know things. It's my power. I saw what was going on, all of it. You need to say something, Amy. If you keep it all bottled up, things aren't going to end well at all."

"You saw what was going on, huh?" Amy's tone was hostile. "Whatever your angle is, you can forget it. I helped your friend but I don't have to stand here and listen to your psychobabble. I thought you had some legitimate information for me, so excuse me for not being serious about an intervention from somebody I barely know." I heard her start to move closer to the door.

"You might not know me, but I know you. You and Skitter are two sides of the same coin, and I'll tell you the same thing I told her: you're not a monster." Amy's footsteps halted and Lisa continued. "You're not your father."

Amy stomped back to Lisa. "I'm listening." Despite that, she still sounded like she was ready for a fight.

"You're adopted, maybe even through not-quite-legal means. Your father was a villain, someone Carol hated with a passion. For whatever reason, he gave you up and asked her and Mark to care for you." It must have been painful for Lisa, having to deliver all of this information with a straight face. Explaining something this big would usually draw up her most extravagant shit-eating grin but there was no way she could have that expression without Amy lashing out. "Mark tries to be a good father but he has his own problems, so he's not always present. And Carol...it'd be better if she just yelled at you, told you she hates you. Right?"

"W-what?"

"The neglect, the avoidance, I'm sure you could deal with that. But you don't know whether she hates you, so you have to suffer with both hope and uncertainty. You try to be a good daughter, you try to prove you're worthy of her love and nothing like your father, and yet she never loves you back. But at the same time, she never outright shuts you down and just lets you keep trying." Lisa was in full-on lecture mode and it was interesting to not be on the receiving end. She might've gone this in-depth with Greg if she hadn't wanted to get him out of the house so badly. "So you start to think, 'Maybe it's me. Maybe she can see the evil in me and can't bring herself to love me.' It's definitely easier to think there's something wrong with you than to think one of the people you love most in the world is kind of a shitty person." Amy started to shout a protest but Lisa didn't stop talking, steamrolling over the brunette's anger. "Believe me, I know firsthand. But you need to acknowledge that parents are human too. They can make mistakes, they can have flaws, and for all their good points they can have such tremendous flaws that things kind of lean toward the bad side; for example, hating a child simply because of who her father was."

The bed squeaked. Somebody had sat down, though I couldn't tell who. Since I didn't know the layout of the room I could only take vague guesses.

"So you think, even if evil _is_ genetic and you're naturally inclined to be a monster, you can train that out of yourself. So you throw yourself into the healer schtick and never afford yourself any real rest or hobbies because a monster doesn't deserve that. You're working to atone for crimes you've never committed, or maybe to build up credit for crimes you think you're doomed to commit. But here's the thing, Amy," the bed creaked as Lisa sat (I presumed it was her, since the timing fit), "you're not a monster. You're not fated to be evil. You're a good person who's suffering and punishing herself for feeling the pain."

Amy started to cry.

"You need to talk to Carol about this, and then get some therapy. Whether it was intentional or not, you've suffered abuse and trauma and you need to work it out. Also..." Lisa sighed. "Here comes the hard part. We need to talk about Vicky."

Amy's crying stopped as her breath hitched in her throat.

"Most people, unless they're perverts, would dismiss it. I see deeper." She took another breath. "It's her fault, you know. All of New Wave's, really. Because you're immune to disease they somehow assumed that you're immune to Victoria's aura. But being exposed to that almost non-stop as you went through puberty and sexual awakening? L-look. I could go off on whole tangents with this, but that won't get us anywhere. So I'll just say this: I get that you're disgusted with yourself about it. Honestly, you have every right to be. Your sexual preferences got hijacked. But you need to talk to Victoria about it. Maybe she could see herself having feelings for you two and everything ends up with a Disney ending. Maybe she's disgusted and rejects you. Either way, you have certainty, no longer have to suppress yet another aspect of yourself, and can figure out a way to move on." Soft rustling of cloth on cloth. A hug, maybe? "And, if you want, I can be there with you to confront Carol. Though I suspect you'd want to talk with Vicky on your own."

Amy sniffled. "I just...I need to think..." Even I, without bullshit Thinker powers, could tell that was code for 'get out'.

"Okay. But please, don't bottle yourself up anymore. Don't punish yourself for existing. You've done nothing to deserve that kind of pain."

(BREAK)

I returned my focus to my body just before Foresight stepped out of Amy's room, the blonde looking a little sheepish. "I think I might've dipped into TMI territory..."

_They have no idea. Great deflection, though. Keep them from probing Amy because they think she feels awkward_. If Lisa had truly wanted to be a villain, she could have destroyed so many people. Hell, if she ever wanted to retire she could go into acting with talent like that.

"Well, think we could head back home now? I've been stewing on some ideas and I'm sure you have some too," I said to Foresight as well as the group as a whole. I looked back to Mark. "Is it alright if I keep the sheet? I mean, I could wash it and bring it back..." How did I manage to be so awkward?

He gave me a little smile. "No, it's alright. Just stay safe out there."

(BREAK)

The first thing I did upon arrival at home was to put on some damn clothes. It made me feel sort of terrible for thinking it, but hearing Amy's problems made mine feel less significant. It wasn't schadenfreude, not exactly, more a case of the old adage that no matter how bad things are, someone else has it worse. In any case, I slipped into my pajamas and almost skipped down the stairs to the living room, where everybody was gathered.

I had to take a moment once I stopped to deal with the new momentum brought on by the additional weight of my fuller hair. I strode over to the couch and sat down, then looked to Lisa, who was just finishing the explanation she'd been giving Rachel on the ride over. "PRT?" I asked her.

"PRT," she nodded in agreement.

"Okay, for those of us who _aren't_ prodigies?" Brian groaned.

I smiled at him. "Well, I'm not exactly sure if Lisa's thinking the same thing, but for me, I see this as a real chance to affect some meaningful change."

"We're swearing all you idiots to secrecy again." Lisa was smiling but her tone was serious. "Well, Danny, for you it's the first swear to secrecy, but you need to realize that this is for real. This information is incredibly sensitive and could – probably will, if it gets out – result in lives lost." She cleared her throat. "Director Piggot believes that someone high up in the PRT has been gearing its policies toward self-destruction, some sort of conspiracy to...I'm not sure yet what the endgame is but we can be certain it's not good."

"Before," I continued for Lisa, "we hadn't pressed the Shadow Stalker issue because we were uncertain of the stance the PRT would take and didn't want to be made pariahs. Now, knowing that the national PRT is most likely corrupt but having the support of the local PRT, I think we'll have the leverage to affect some change for the better." I looked back to Lisa and she nodded, giving me permission to continue. "I want to use Shadow Stalker as a platform to increase support for oversight in the Wards program, to emphasize accountability in schools like Winslow and to provide more counseling and therapy for Wards. Kids who've just triggered need someone to talk to...maybe if they'd had mandatory therapy somebody would have caught Sophia's minor case of rabid homicidal insanity."

"Alright then," dad piped up. "Lisa, you can start working on a proposal. Tomorrow. For tonight, we should all try to get some sleep." He ushered me upstairs, tucked me in, kissed my forehead and said goodnight.

(BREAK)

I tossed and turned for at least an hour, unable to settle down and feel safe. The door creaked open and through the darkness I could make out Rachel's stocky form. She shuffled in, a pillow under one arm and a stuffed animal cradled in the other, and climbed into bed. She didn't say a word but pulled the sheets up to her chin, set the stuffed animal beside herself, and hugged me tight.

I drifted off to a peaceful sleep.


	32. Insinuation 03

**Insinuation 4.03**

I woke up feeling trapped, yet unafraid.

My sleep-addled mind had difficulty reconciling that until my eyes came into focus and the "_Mr. Sandman_" sequence from _Uncle Buck_ started playing in my mind: when I'd fallen asleep the previous night, Rachel had been cuddling me. Now, everybody was.

Lisa was at my front, snuggled against me with her face tucked into the crook of my neck. Brian was on her other side, facing away, while my bugs told me Alec was behind Rachel and had swiped her stuffed animal. Aisha was snoozing away at the foot of the bed, her little body scrunched up as she hugged yet another of Rachel's plushies. Idly I mused that it was a good thing Alec, Lisa and I were all relatively thin, because Brian's and Rachel's bulk threatened to shove the other two off the sides of the bed.

Realizing that I couldn't get up without waking the others, I opted to nest back into the pillow and try to get some more rest. Lisa made a soft murmuring sound and nuzzled even closer, sighing in contentment when she'd apparently gotten comfy again.

The door squeaked open and my bugs looked over to see my father peeking in. His face blossomed into one of the warmest smiles I'd seen from him in a long time and he quietly backpedaled out of the room. I gave my own contented sigh and let myself drift away once more.

(BREAK)

When next I woke up, I was alone. Well, not really. Rachel had filled the rest of the bed with her plushies, apparently to help keep me safe. Her cerberus doll was right in front of me and I hugged it tight, unable to contain the girlish giggle it drew from me. Her stuffed animals were special to her, so this was actually more significant in my eyes than her coming to sleep next to me last night.

I rolled onto my back, my brain working as I thought of Rachel. In a way, she was representative of the Undersiders as a whole: damaged, suffering, lost. But, with a little love and patience, she was making gestures of kindness I was certain nobody had ever expected from her. Love was the key part of the equation. I loved them all, even Alec. They were family and we had gotten to the point where it was difficult if not outright impossible to imagine life without them.

More significant than my feelings toward the Undersiders, however, were my feelings toward Sophia and what had happened. I needed to focus away from the good and onto the bad, specifically because it seemed that I had utterly _no_ feelings whatsoever with regards to my suffering at Sophia's hands. I'd been tortured, I'd killed two people, yet I didn't feel good or bad about it; I didn't even feel numb. My emotional response to the events was the same as to the fact that four plus five equaled nine. Actually, using an equation as a mental example gave me the answer: it was an expected, factual outcome. Because of her twisted mind, if Sophia came for me, she would kill me. It was her life or mine, and I preferred mine. I supposed, in the end, Sophia got what she'd always wanted. She'd become a predator and had to face the life-or-death struggle that predators endured. The rules of nature took hold and the animal was slain.

I sat up and stretched. Sophia's ultimate failing was in trusting solely to the rules of nature, that power and instinct and ruthlessness were the only determining factor in the food chain. The average human could be taken down by just a couple of dogs, yet humanity was the dominant species on Earth because we used our minds, because we worked together, and because we had the capacity for empathy. By reflecting on our actions, feeling regret, and understanding others, we had moved beyond predation upon one another. Sophia had seen the predator/prey model as the perfect state, when really it was an inferior one.

I changed into a loose shirt and a pair of shorts. I'd spent enough of the morning (or was it afternoon now? Sophia'd broken my clock) ruminating on a dead girl who'd made my life hell; it was time to focus on my loved ones. I descended the stairs and found almost everybody in the living room. Lisa was typing on her laptop while dad offered occasional input, Alec and Aisha were wrestling on the floor over a controller, and... I had to blink. Brian was apparently teaching Rachel how to cook an omelette.

"Morning," I smiled and was rewarded with assorted greetings in reply. I moved into the kitchen and gave Rachel a gentle hug. "Thanks for the animals," I said softly.

She blushed a little but grunted, "They're just a loan. I'll want 'em back."

"Of course. I'd never steal the little guys from you," I beamed. I gave Brian a pat on the back and a smile just for him before heading into the living room. Carefully stepping around the spectacle on the floor – where Alec was currently biting Aisha on the head – I made my way to the laptop. "So what're you two working on?" I plopped down beside my dad, who slipped his arm around my shoulders and drew me into an easy hug.

"We're working on the big indictment on the PRT," he replied. "Basically, if they don't give in to our very reasonable requests, we make everything public and let them be eviscerated. With what happened last night..." He drifted off and looked me in the eyes. "Are you doing alright with everything...that?"

I nodded and cuddled up. "Yeah, I did some thinking before I came down and I'm okay with it. In the end, Sophia got what she wanted. She was a predator, a wild animal. And I put her down."

"Dark, but not inaccurate," Lisa commented.

"How long've the lovebirds been at it?" I jerked a thumb at Alec and Aisha.

"At least fifteen minutes," the blonde replied. "They both wanted the electric-blue controller and things escalated from there."

"For both of them being teens, they flirt like they're still in kindergarten," my father added.

"Don't even joke about that, Danny," Brian called from the kitchen. "The idea of my baby sister being with anyone is almost enough to cause a second trigger, but her dating _that_? Just giving me the mental image is Bonesaw-level fucked."

The wrestlers paused simultaneously and looked over to Brian. "Hey, fuck you," they barked in unison before resuming their fight.

"Oh god," the big man facepalmed.

My phone began to buzz in my pocket. So did everybody else's. Since officially becoming a hero I'd kept my phone with me almost constantly for one very important reason: the PRT had an app. Apparently Dragon had designed it and it only worked for authorized users. Once we'd been keyed in following our public announcement, we were made aware of every parahuman event and major crime within Brockton Bay.

"Shit," Brian said, having been the first to get his phone out, "there's a big cape fight over at the docks. The Teeth – including Butcher Thirteen – have been sighted, as well as Trainwreck, Circus, and two unidentified capes."

Dad went pale. "We have people working down there today!"

"Suit up, people! Danny, take over omelette duty!" Brian rushed up the stairs.

(BREAK)

The cape fights people usually see on TV or the internet are the flashy hero-vs-villain bouts, oversized games of cops-and-robbers with explosions. Villain fights are significantly more brutal. Case in point, the dockyard looked like Godzilla had taken a tour through it. Enormous shipping crates were scattered around, having been thrown at the Teeth.

Animos was down for the count while Spree made a fighting retreat toward Butcher, unloading legions of her duplicates at a cape dressed in what looked like a combination of a trenchcoat and gimp suit, every inch of him covered in black leather. He approached like an implacable force, moving sluggishly as though he was trying to walk through water, but his slow strikes impacted the copies with enough force to buckle, crush or even shatter their bodies.

Vex and Butcher himself took on Trainwreck, who towered over them in a colossal two-story brute of power armor. Slicing and piercing combined with blunt impact in an attempt to shatter Trainwreck's defenses, while the homeless villain doled out earthshaking blows.

While we couldn't see Circus or Quarrel, the sound of gunfire clued us in that Quarrel, at least, was in the area.

Foresight spoke up as we formed a plan. "Grue, we need to see if you can shut down Vex. Imp, see if you can get in close and tase him under Grue's cover. Regent, molasses guy is all yours. Cerberus, go after Spree and Hemorrhagia if you see her, but be careful: we'll need you for dealing with Butcher." She looked to me. "Skitter, think you can take down Trainwreck?"

I nodded, feeling my entire torso rumbling with the contents of my newly enlarged reservoir.

On Foresight's signal we leapt into action. Grue's darkness engulfed Butcher and Vex while Cerberus' dogs plowed through Spree's clones. I leapt off of Atlas as I sent my bugs to scan for Hemorrhagia, Circus and Quarrel. My enormous beetle crashed into the armored parahuman with enough force to stagger him, and then Atlas' pincers bit into the armor. Like a bladed vise, they crushed and cut in equal measure before I pulled Atlas back and had him circle Trainwreck. I bent my head back and, like a (arguably) human howitzer, launched a small barrage of bomb-bugs on an arc to splatter on his armor. The hiss of the alkaloid substance melting through the manipulated scrap was immensely satisfying.

My bugs spotted Quarrel running in my direction and I tried to get out of her range, though I realized I didn't know exactly what that range was. She finished reloading her uzis and opened fire, the bullets arcing and changing direction in midair to remain on-target. The shots rained down on me, most of the impact absorbed by my costume, but it was still enough to beat me into the ground. Since I figured I wouldn't be able to stand under the attack, I opted to roll away while piling my bugs up. They all buzzed in unison, the collective noise drowning out even the deafening storm of her guns. Quarrel found herself under a massive shadow and looked behind herself, then let out a high-pitched squeak.

I let the churning column fall on her, more than two stories of bugs surging over Quarrel like a chitinous waterfall. Immediately I set my bugs to work, the expendable ones (i.e. the ones I created) acting first: praying beetles dragged her arms and legs together while bumblespiders tied her up.

"Skitter!" Cerberus' voice cut through the chaos and I looked up to see Twinkles tackling a shipping crate that Trainwreck had hurled at me. Its path altered, the crate crashed beside me and I ducked beneath the beast's legs before sending Atlas in for another attack. This time he aimed for one of the suit's knees and started crushing it.

I'd underestimated Trainwreck's versatility, as the entire upper body of the armor did a 180 so that he could bring his fists down on Atlas. Thankfully my bug was tough, but I could still feel his pain from the impact. "Hey, fucker!" I launched another barrage of glowing green death at him, wanting his attention on me.

I was bowled over by an explosion and found Butcher looming over me. He regarded me through his visor, his expression unknown behind the stylized knight helmet. "Skitter, the girl who took down Lung twice. I find myself unimpressed."

"That's what he thought, too," I snarled at him before engulfing the Teeth's leader in my swarm. Even if the bugs could slip through cracks in his armor, I doubted they could do anything to him. In addition to his durability, he didn't feel pain. Instead, this was just a distraction. Cerberus had been watching me as Atlas ripped off Trainwreck's armor leg, so she must've wanted to do something similar. Bentley grabbed Butcher's leg while he was distracted by insects all over him. The dog shook him back and forth like a rope toy, smashing him into the ground again and again. Finally Butcher managed to focus through being whipped around and teleported away, the explosion in Bentley's mouth knocking the giant bulldog on his ass. Bentley shook his head and laid down, apparently having hurt his jaw.

Atlas continued to beat on Trainwreck. I'd given him free rein since the villain was ensconced inside all of that metal; Atlas had no restrictions on his violence so his enormous bladed pincers were steadily dismantling the power armor.

The roar of Armsmaster's motorcycle announced that the cavalry had arrived. The Tinker and Dauntless only took a moment to survey the situation before leaping into the fray. Armsmaster intercepted Hemorrhagia, who had been attacking Grue, while Dauntless went straight for Butcher.

I yelped when a knife lodged itself in my chest plate, looking over to see Circus scowling at me. "You picked the wrong girl to mess with," I snarled and brought forth my swarm. The villain threw an incendiary grenade, which I barely had time to recognize before it exploded point-blank in my face. My costume could take the heat and so could my skin, but my insects were dying. _That's how you want to play it?_ I stomped forward out of the fire and extended the claws on my hands and feet. "Bad call, Circus." My jaw unhinged like it had the previous night and a dark cloud of bumblespiders billowed forth. I didn't want to kill her; just restrain her.

It was Circus' turn to yelp as the bugs swirled around her, dropping their silk and mummifying her. She tried to run but ended up tangled just as a fly might. Once she fell and hit the ground, it was over. I had her wrapped up from feet to neck.

Atlas' instincts told me to duck. I did, and my poor giant beetle hurtled just over my head to impact another bunch of shipping crates. He fell unconscious from the beating and I had to force myself not to cry.

Trainwreck's armor was in pieces. He let it all drop, exposing the villain beneath it all: a rather overweight bald man, beefy in the style of old-fashioned strongmen. "Migraine," he shouted into the air. "You better be recharged! We need backup _now_!"

I draw my bugs back to myself, reaching out to grab crabs and lobsters too. Whoever this Migraine was, I'd be–

My world was pain.

It felt like my brain was trying to claw its way out through my forehead and I dropped to my knees, clutching my skull. I could barely even control my bugs through the supernatural agony. My vision clouded and swam, so I looked through my bugs' eyes instead. There was a new presence, a slender Asian woman in a blue silk dress and a masquerade mask.

"Move your asses!" Her voice was surprisingly husky, the sort of timbre that was made for seductive whispering...if it wasn't also extremely deep, almost masculine. "I don't know how long I can hold this many!"

I couldn't even keep focus on the insects' vision anymore, couldn't control anything. But, Cerberus' dogs didn't need to be controlled. I wasn't sure if she'd respond to someone who wasn't her master, but I pointed at the woman. "Cassie, hurt," I managed to choke out.

The woman screamed as the enormous dog charged her. Trainwreck body-checked the greyhound, his new armor much sleeker and built for speed. Giant roller skates roared at his feet. He scooped up the Asian woman and then did the same for Circus before heading to Mr. Slo-Mo, now known as Juggernaut. Trainwreck's own movements slowed to a fraction of their prior speed, apparently having to push through Juggernaut's aura. After several long seconds, he was moving at the normal rate and the villains escaped.

I barely managed to stagger to my feet; while the excruciating pain was no longer ongoing, the residual agony still ravaged my body. I looked over to see Butcher curled up in the fetal position, tremors rocking him every few moments. Apparently he wasn't immune to the pain this Migraine caused, and not having felt pain in so long must have made him even more vulnerable.

Hemorrhagia slogged out from behind a pile of Spree's clones, listing to one side. It made sense that she'd be the first to recover; she must have amazing pain tolerance. She focused on waking Animos, presumably so that they could ride away on him.

"Twinkles..." I pointed a shaking arm at Hemorrhagia and the poodle dutifully obeyed, launching into the air to come crashing down on her. Hemorrhagia ran Twinkles through with a spear of blood yet the behemoth didn't even pause, punching her in the chest with a foreleg and smashing her into the ground. She wheeled back around to finish beating her down, but was intercepted by a wave of Spree's duplicates.

"Kill," Spree shouted, pointing at us. She didn't need to do that in order to command her copies, but she wanted us to know her intentions. Dauntless had managed to stand at this point, lance at the ready as he beat back the swarm of duplicates. Armsmaster was soon on his feet and doing the same. Spree created even more fresh clones, these ones picking up the other Teeth and carrying them away, being continually replaced by new duplicates as the old ones became too stupid to walk or even breathe.

The other Undersiders finally lurched to their feet, still shaking off the reverberating pain. "Okay," Regent groaned, "Heartbreaker's looking like a good option compared to _that_."

"Fuckin' ow," Cerberus contributed.

"At least we got some intel," Foresight mumbled through a bitten tongue. "Trainwreck's been working with Circus and those two new capes, Juggernaut and Migraine, and they've been taking territory. We also know that Migraine's power causes pain that can even affect someone immune to pain."

"What I want to know," Dauntless grunted as he rubbed his head, jostling his helmet around, "is what they were doing here. The docks are so far from Trainwreck's usual stomping grounds it's not even funny."

"Perhaps they picked this as a dueling ground," Armsmaster said through gritted teeth. "It's not unheard of for villains to extend a little professional courtesy for one another and agree to fight outside of each other's territory."

"Or maybe something was being delivered today," I piped up. "Something one – or both – of the groups wanted pretty bad."

The Protectorate's leader nodded. "That's also a possibility. I'll contact the BBPD and let them know the theory." He huffed. "Look, we're all professionals here, right?" He let himself hunch forward and rested his hands on his thighs, taking a few ragged breaths. "Ugh, that really _really_ hurt... Give me a moment, please." He steadied his breathing and finally straightened back up. "I wanted to say, to all of you, excellent work. This was your first major fight as official heroes and you handled yourselves like seasoned professionals."

"While we didn't get an arrest today," Dauntless added, "I think we can still count this as a win." He looked at Cerberus' monsters and my poor Atlas. "...Do your, ah, critters need help?"

"My dogs'll be fine," Cerberus muttered. "Just need to shrink 'em back down."

"And Atlas should be okay. Poor little guy..." I walked over and gently patted his shell. "If he's not, I'll contact you guys." I crawled underneath him and grunted with exertion, trying to leverage him out of the mess. "Think – rgh – think we can balance him on Bentley, Cerberus?"

The stocky girl whistled and gestured and then Bentley waddled over, his huge goofy doggy-smile evident even in his monster form. Grue and Cerberus helped me shove Atlas and we got him atop Bentley, where my bumblespiders helped secure him to the dog's back. We managed to all pile atop Cassie and rode off, Twinkles and Bentley following behind us.

Grue patted me on the shoulder. "Atlas will be okay, right?"

I sighed. "I think so. I hope so."

"You did good out there today. I think I figured out where you went wrong, though." He gave me time to reply but I didn't, so he continued. "When you took down Quarrel and Circus, you used sheer numbers and your multitasking ability to bring them down. With Trainwreck, you only had Atlas. And, tough as he is, there's only one of him."

"Yeah," I muttered. "I think I need more heavy hitters..."


	33. Insinuation 04

**Insinuation 4.04**

Instead of going home, we opted for Undersiders HQ. With Rachel and Brian's help, we got Atlas onto the floor of my bug-kennel. I paced around my little sweetie and examined him.

"Thankfully, it doesn't look like anything's broken. His shell's cracked in places but no bones broken."

"Wait," Lisa interrupted as she took off her helmet, "no bones broken? He has an endoskeleton as well?"

"Yeah," I replied. It was obvious to me, but maybe that was because I was the one who made him. "You can't be that big with an exoskeleton."

Atlas raised up his head and opened his mouth. I'd just fed him the day before but I knew he wasn't a greedy baby. If he wanted food, he needed it. I stooped over him and gave him a sizable meal, far larger than the norm. I could feel the tissues in his body mending themselves as he processed my slime. Once he was satisfied, the big lug settled down and shut his eyes, taking a well-deserved nap.

"Okay," I smiled. "He's gonna be fine now." I finished removing my mask and shook out my heavy hair-tendrils. "If I'm gonna start making more bugaboos, I'll need a way to feed them all. I can't be Taylor the Soup Kitchen, just pumping them all full of goop."

"So you need something to make it for you," Brian observed. "Think you could cough something up?"

I nodded, my brain already running through simulations. "I could. But look, I know I've rejected a lot of the names you guys've come up with, but we do need names for the stuff I make."

"Well," Aisha was suddenly beside me and I jumped, "the names you have for your little hybrids are all fine. Bumblespiders, ladydragons, praying beetles? Those are good. It's the stuff you make from scratch that gets you confused, right? That's because you can't just fuse two things together. Even Atlas and the raptor had some basis in reality. But your slime stuff and the bomb-bugs? They're totally new."

"So," Alec continued her train of thought, "we should come up with new names. Something unique." He walked up and poked me in the arm. "Spit up one of those bomb-bugs." Alec smoothed back his long ringlets of black hair and walked around my outstretched hand, inspecting the luminous critter from every angle. "Mm..." He scratched his head. "How about, instead of all the cute names like 'grenat', we go with something simple: burster."

Lisa nodded in approval. "Short, simple, and it lets others know their function right off the bat. I like it. Taylor?"

I shrugged. "It works. Now," I gestured to the purple gunk beneath the now-named burster, "what about this stuff?"

"Gak's trademarked," Aisha piped up.

"Something else simple, huh?" This time, Rachel spoke up. "Well, no offense, but that stuff is kinda gross. Maybe we should go with that. Somebody get a th...this... A dinosaurus. I know that's not it, but you know what I mean. A book that has other words for a word you pick."

"Thesaurus," Brian offered. "And we probably don't need one. We have Lisapedia here."

I splashed him with the slime. "Asshole! That's my word!"

He just laughed.

"Well, since I'm on the spot now..." Lisa cradled her chin between her thumb and forefinger. "You said you could make the stuff move through the sewers, right? Well, that's our answer: a word for both gross and movement." She grinned wide. "Creep."

"And then I could call the thing I'm working on now a creeper. I like it." I moved to the middle of the kennel. "Okay, let's see if this'll work." I opened by spewing a small pool of creep so my creeper wouldn't die. It would work like an external version of my reservoir: instead of storing creep inside itself, it would spread it around on the floor while using a small amount of creep to nourish itself.

I then hocked and coughed, spitting up an ugly purple glob. It pulsated and sucked at the creep surrounding it, growing and glowing orange with an inner light. After a few moments it settled down and spread out, going from a mutant meatball to a puffy pancake, albeit a two-foot-wide pancake. Creep began to seep out from beneath it, slowly spreading and thickening on the floor. I took some tentative steps into the mass. On the outside it splashed like water or oil, while further inside it felt like stepping on a gymnastics pad or a solid slab of jello.

"And there we go," I smiled brightly. "Now my little guys will have food!" As if on cue, my phone beeped. I pulled it out to see I had a message from Miss Militia of all people.

_Dauntless and Armsmaster forgot to invite Undersiders to the Rig for debrief. Also need to speak with you w/r/t Shadow Stalker incident. –MM_

"Well, that's a way to kill a good mood." I showed the message to Brian.

"Well, we should go in for debrief. Most likely they want our input on the new villains. And as for you..." He sighed. "You did kill two people, even though they deserved that and worse. But Miss Militia's in your corner and she blew Victor's head off, so you should be okay."

"Most likely they'll want you to speak to a therapist," Lisa added, "which isn't a bad thing. You've been through a lot in a very short period of time and could use some outside help." She gave me a little hug. "Good thing is, cape therapists have to keep their yaps shut. If they share personal info, they'll have an army of pissed-off parahumans looking to murder them and even the Protectorate couldn't stop that tide."

"Ask if they can send a van or something," Rachel grunted. "The dogs need some rest and, even if Atlas was a hundred percent, he couldn't carry us all."

"Good point." Brian handed the phone back to me.

(BREAK)

Undersiders HQ was a complex, and a veritable fortress: two warehouses and a tenement building, all reinforced by independent contractors whom Lisa had painstakingly vetted. Soon we were going to install walkways between the three buildings. For now, however, we did our best to present the facade that our headquarters was only one warehouse: the one that would house my critters.

After nearly an hour, an armored PRT van pulled up and a well-dressed trooper stepped out of the back. He was clean-shaven and had his blond hair parted in that stereotypical politician cut. He offered us a salute and a little smile. "Sergeant Piotr Rafhurst. It's an honor to meet you all." He relaxed a little. "My grandparents live in Laurel Hills."

Laurel Hills, of course, was one of the neighborhoods that fell under our protection during the war. Grue offered Rafhurst a handshake. "We were just doing what we felt was right." He nodded to the van. "Shall we?"

Rafhurst ushered us inside. "We've all heard the reports. You handled two villain groups, including Butcher Thirteen, before our guys could even get there. That's earned you some serious street cred." He looked to me. "Is your bug guy okay?"

"His name is Atlas, and yes, he'll be fine. Poor baby just got knocked around a little too much."

"Right, sorry about forgetting his name. So you really just found him?"

"Incredibly lucky break," I replied. "If I hadn't been desperately searching for something else to help, and he wasn't in my range, E88 might've killed us all." That put a stop to the awkward conversation and gave way to awkward silence.

(BREAK)

Sergeant Rafhurst dropped us off at PRT HQ and from there we took the shuttle to the Rig. Miss Militia met us at the helipad.

"It's good to see you all," she said, smiling behind her scarf. "Are your pets alright?"

"Everybody's fine," Cerberus grumped. "Now let's get the business done so I can go take a nap."

The dark-skinned heroine chuckled. "At least you're honest. Come on, then."

Armsmaster, Dauntless and Deputy Rennick were all gathered around a whiteboard with various villain names written on it. "Ah," Rennick smiled, "and here are our guests. Pull up a chair wherever you like."

"So what's this debrief about, exactly?" Grue asked as he settled into a chair.

"We're listing our observations about the villains we've encountered," Dauntless tapped the whiteboard. "All of the Adrift – that's what we're calling Trainwreck and company – are relative unknowns due to their overall inactivity. The Teeth are mostly catalogued but we could always use new insights."

I looked at the board. Trainwreck was listed as a Tinker, Migraine as a Blaster, and Gimp-Suit as a Brute. "Well, first off, Gimp-Suit is called Juggernaut."

Miss Militia looked over to me. "Oh? How do you know?"

I shrugged. "I heard somebody call him that. Can't remember who." Miss Militia made the change on the whiteboard. "He's also a Shaker. When Trainwreck picked him up, he got caught in the slowdown field too." _Shaker 1_ was added to his description. "I think he's permanently slowed, too."

"He falls in slo-mo," Regent agreed. _Shaker 1/Mover -1 (slow-motion)_.

"He was dealing out Crawler-level damage, maybe even Alexandria-tier. Probably not as durable as her, but still..." Foresight tapped the helmet's chin. "Probably Brute 7. With how slow he is, though, he's not as dangerous as your typical Alexandria package. Also..." She took the marker from Miss Militia. "Trainwreck isn't a Tinker. Maybe Tinker or Thinker 1, but if Panacea doesn't get a rating for being able to instantly understand a target's biology, then he probably shouldn't either." I could tell she was wearing her vulpine grin under her helm. "He's a Striker, with maybe Shaker 1 to help with the larger chunks. He can assemble metal into armor, with his own body serving as a battery." She started erasing and making the changes. "He started with a behemoth Brute suit, then dropped the scrap and reassembled it into a Mover suit. No Tinker can do that. On the upside, it also means he can't build Tinkertech bullshit like antigrav or laser cannons."

"I'm not sure if we should list Migraine as a Blaster," I said. "Sure, her power causes pain, but it's not fired the typical way a Blaster does." I gestured at Cerberus. "If Cerberus is counted as a Master for manipulating dogs' biology, then I figure Migraine's power fits in that category, too."

Armsmaster thought for a moment, then gave a shrug-nod. "The reasoning is sound." _Master 4 (crippling pain)_. "And Circus?"

Foresight groaned. "That's all sorts of weirdness." She just started writing. "Mover 1 for perfect balance, Brute 1 for enhanced strength. Circus isn't really more durable, but that balance allows her...or him, I can't really tell, to shrug off hits that would normally be a lot more harmful. Shaker 2 for hammerspace; that is, the ability to pull things out of nothing. I can't be certain how much extradimensional space she has access to, but it's enough to store at least a sledgehammer and some grenades. Wait, make that Shaker 3. She has fairly good pyrokinesis, but needs the fire to already exist. She can only control, not create."

Miss Militia leaned against the wall. "So who do we think the leader is?"

"Not Trainwreck or Circus," Regent spoke up. "Trainwreck was content with his little hidey-hole in the old trainyards, and I doubt some new capes on the scene would suddenly make him decide to play Kingpin. Likewise, Circus is a follower rather than a leader. He/she doesn't seem the type to take control."

"And if Juggernaut is permanently under that slow-motion aura," Grue expounded, "then it's unlikely he can properly communicate."

"Process of elimination says Migraine's the boss, then." Imp swiped the marker from Foresight and stood on her tiptoes to write _Adrift Leader_ over Migraine's name.

Dauntless laughed under his breath. "Guess it's a good thing we have former villains on our side. You guys know the local politics, huh?"

"Not as much as we used to," Grue replied. "With the fall of the ABB and E88, there's a lot of upheaval and plenty of former unknowns looking to grab a piece of the pie."

"But, with the girl who took down Lung twice out there on patrol, maybe the baddies will be quieter."

I nodded to Dauntless. "We can only hope."

Miss Militia placed a hand on my shoulder. "Skitter, do you mind if I steal you now? We have some other business to deal with, after all."

"If you'll be there, sure." I couldn't help grinning in response to the radiant smile that shone through Miss Militia's eyes. "I'll be back, guys," I said to the team.

The Protectorate's second-in-command led me to another room with two comfortable-looking chairs, a chaise lounge, and a desk. The walls were padded but done so with a pretty blue fabric. "Padded walls?" I asked, quirking a brow behind my mask.

"They dampen sound in case one of us has to yell and vent. They're also good for punching if you don't have too high a Brute rating." She jabbed the wall to demonstrate. "Now, before the director gets here..." She reached up and removed her scarf. The fabric hooked over her ears to keep it in place during fights, but she lowered it to rest around her neck.

Miss Militia's face was stunningly gorgeous, high cheekbones and elegant neck; slightly upturned nose and small, pouty-lipped mouth. She smiled and offered a hand. "Hannah Roosevelt. It's nice to meet you."

I shook her hand, still a little stunned by the reveal. "Is this what you were going to say when Foresight cut us off yesterday?"

"Yeah. You're a sweet girl, Skitter. I'd like to be friends rather than just coworkers."

My shock gave way to a smile of my own. "I'd like that too. So, Roosevelt?"

"I picked it after FDR's New Deal. I figure I got a new lease on life, so the name was fitting. I just changed my first name a little bit to Americanize it." She pronounced her name again, this time with much more throat and phlegm. "Hard for non-Mideasterners to say, as you can guess." I giggled at that. "I teach the archery elective at Arcadia when I'm not on patrol."

"Well, I didn't pick archery, but I hope we could hang out sometime." Maybe the heroine could play the part of surrogate big sister.

Director Piggot knocked on the door before opening it, giving Hannah just enough time to don her scarf once again. "Skitter," the heavyset woman nodded to me. "I'm glad to see you in one piece. How are you feeling?" She motioned for me to sit as she did the same.

"All in all? I'm hanging in there. It was extremely traumatic but in the end I got closure, so there's that."

Piggot set a recorder on the desk. "You don't object to this interview being recorded, do you?"

"I guess not," I replied a little cautiously.

I must've been wearing my thoughts on my sleeve. "This isn't for blackmail purposes or anything, Skitter. This is simply so we can transcribe it later and have two different forms of evidence." She switched on the recorder. "Now then, in your own words, just tell us what happened."

I sighed. "Alright...can we get some chocolates or something? I'll need some cheering up by the end of this." Miss Militia stepped out, presumably to ask for chocolate. I hoped. "Last night, Sophia Hess appeared in my bedroom and smothered me with some sort of chemical-doused cloth. Chloroform or some sort of other sleep agent...thing." I realized that I was rubbing my arms, huddling in on myself. I paused and squared my shoulders, focusing on my friends and achievements. "I woke up, naked, chained to a metal chair. Hess and some other girl named Lara were there, Lara standing back while Hess used a heavy wrench and a switchblade to torture me. She broke my elbow, stabbed me in the stomach and gouged out my eye before setting me on fire." I shuddered. "I set my bugs on them and I think I killed the Lara girl. I set bugs outside to call for help and eventually Glory Girl and Shielder broke through. Hess tried to escape and I needed to stop her. I called up one of the bugs I used against Lung, I think, and it melted her."

"And that happened while you were on fire?"

"Yes. They doused me in kerosene and Hess threw a lighter at me."

Miss Militia spoke up, having entered moments before. "I know adult heroes, veterans to the fight, who wouldn't be dealing with this nearly as well as you are. Having had your eye gouged out and been _set on fire_, I personally can't hold you responsible. I'm not sure I could retain my conscious mind through that level of pain, especially considering that the inflictor had tortured you with impunity for roughly two years."

Piggot eyed me, sitting in silent deliberation for nearly a minute. "I am inclined to agree with Miss Militia," she said at length. "As a minor who has suffered enormous physical and psychological damage, your actions are understandable. I believe that it would be unjust to hold you responsible in the same manner we would an adult in full possession of her faculties."

I chuckled. "I'm not sure if I should be insulted or thankful. I'll settle on thankful, since I suspect you won't be advocating for jail time."

Piggot narrowed her eyes at me. "This does not give you carte blanche to kill others, Skitter. Heroes are not meant to play executioner."

"Director, I don't _want_ to kill people. I want to help others. I'm a hero because I want to make people's lives better, so that hopefully nobody else will have to suffer as I have."

"And on that note, end Skitter interview." Piggot switched off the recorder and leaned across the desk to offer me a handshake. "On a personal note, I am deeply sorry that you had to suffer through that. I failed to keep proper watch on Shadow Stalker. I could hide behind regulations and say that I was operating within the rules, but I like to think I'm a better person than that. Even if I was following all of the bureaucratic rules, morally I should have done more and for that I will always be regretful."

I accepted the handshake. "The fact that you acknowledge your failing is more than most people would do, Director. I'm not going to hold a grudge for you doing your job." I looked over to Miss Militia. "Could we do the whole therapist thing another time? I'm not really in the best place mentally and...I don't want to relive the other shit I've been through."

Miss Militia nodded. "Fair enough. Out of all people, I think I know what parahumans can go through. I'll take you back to your friends and we'll get you transport back to your headquarters."

(BREAK)

When we arrived at HQ, I was surprised and pleased to find that the entire kennel floor was coated in creep. Atlas was happily snuggled in one of the stalls. He cracked open an eye and then went back to sleep.

Aisha waddled over the creep like she was wearing flippers or showshoes. "Okay, this is kinda gross, but it's also pretty cool. So, this is the same stuff inside you?" She poked my abdomen.

"Sort of. It's thicker and less versatile. This stuff is really just for food. Speaking of... Brian, Rachel, would you help hold me up? I'm gonna try to make some more uglybugs." The pair held me up by my arms and I felt my reservoir rumble. My jaw unhinged, throat loosened, and a cascade of liquid creep fell from my mouth. Soon a half-dozen of the hideous things squirmed on the creep floor. I ordered them to metamorphose into raptors and the creatures planted their heads and soaked up creep, their bodies bloating and transforming.

"Y'know," Lisa said, "I was gonna suggest we call them larvae or something, but uglybug works."

It took me more than a minute to recover to the point where I could stand on my own. "Alright, you might want to stand back: they're about ready to hatch..." I was unsure how these new creatures would react to the world around them.

As the raptors burst from their living eggs, I felt my mind reach out and touch each of theirs, downloading my memories of the original raptor's personality into the six beasts' brains. They looked at me, gurgled happily and began hopping around, wiggling their stumps.

I squealed and let myself fall back, inviting them to dogpile me.


	34. Insinuation 05

**Insinuation 4.05**

It's weird what can give us comfort. Before the war, I dreaded anything to do with school. It terrified me on a level beyond the intellectual or the visceral and I was usually experiencing trauma symptoms before even arriving at Winslow. Now, after everything that had happened, the act of preparing for school was a stabilizing one that helped remind me that, underneath the hair and the costume and the bugs, I was still human.

Dad had taken the morning off and was driving himself spare trying to make sure we were all ready. I practically expected to see little motion lines trailing after him with how he was zipping all around. He'd put the raptors to work, setting books and clothes on them and ordering the little critters into other rooms. It had been surprisingly easy to teach them to recognize basic commands and to put names to faces or locations. He dropped a raincoat on one of them as it passed. "Taylor's room," dad commanded as he stepped over it.

It dutifully padded off.

"You're gonna give yourself an aneurysm," I commented as I looked over my map. _Lisa really does think of everything_. The blonde had printed out a map each for Alec, Rachel and I, showing Arcadia's entire campus. She'd color-coded Rachel's copy and was currently drilling the stockier girl on the various highlighted places.

"You try making sure that three kids are ready for a new school," he retorted as he started making a lunch for Rachel. "Then add in that they're parahumans and former villains, and see how low your blood pressure stays."

Acting on its own initiative, one of the raptors brought him a squeaky toy to cheer him up.

"Uh, thanks," dad said as he accepted it, and patted the little monster on the head. It gurgled, licked his hand and wandered off.

"You're taking this awfully well," Alec grunted out while Aisha practically ripped his arm out of its socket.

Well, that wasn't the whole story there. Alec was clinging to the kitchen island, Aisha latched onto his arm, and Brian was tugging his little sister's ankles. "You're fucking with the group dynamic," she wailed in protest. "Breaking up the Mouseketeers!"

"Too bad," her brother deadpanned. "You're still in eighth grade and, since Pendleton hasn't un-banned you, you get homeschooled."

Aisha was trying to will herself to cry. "Don't leave me, Alec! We have so much more havoc to cause!"

A raptor plucked her from the middle of the tug-of-war and carried a very confused-looking Aisha into another room. I just smirked and turned back to Alec. "That's why I'm taking it well. I have some measure of control and safety now. I have friends; I'm not vulnerable like I was back at Winslow." Loud buzzing rose from the cellar door. "Plus, I'mma park Atlas on the roof."

I couldn't help giggling at one raptor's distress as Twinkles, perched on its back, hitched a ride. Twinkles' new orange vest looked very good on her and again I had to give credit to Lisa. She'd thought ahead and gotten several of Rachel's dogs certified as service and therapy animals.

Alec made a show of popping his arm back into place. "So I'm not gonna see much of you or Rachel at Arcadia, huh?" He returned to stuffing his backpack, which was what he'd been doing before the Aisha attack.

"Nope. Different class schedules." While Alec and Rachel had backpacks, I didn't have that luxury due to my enormous hair. My costume's armor backpack stuck close enough to still be useful, but then again I only had a handful of little items to store there rather than the octillion-and-a-half books for high school. I'd opted for a front-worn messenger bag to carry my books and assorted sundries.

"I shall cry my eyes out until we are again reunited," he said in a totally flat voice, sarcasm rolling off him in waves.

"Leave a candle burning in the window, love." I twirled a lock of his hair and he swatted at me like a perturbed cat.

"Stop being so cheery!"

I shrieked as Lisa suddenly spun me around and grabbed me by the shoulders. "Gah! Leggo!"

"You're inviting Murphy to shove his Law right up your ass," she yelled as she continued to cling like a noisy limpet. "You need to expect the worst so you're pleasantly surprised!"

"Y'know," Alec grumped, "the whole 'mountains out of molehills for comedic effect' schtick? That's my thing. You're stealing my bit." He gave us his best puppy-dog eyes.

Dad, who'd been walking by, gave him a hug. Alec looked like he didn't know how to respond to that.

"Alright kids," my father said as he set the lunchboxes on the island, "it's time to go. Lisa, hands off the merchandise. Rachel, go get Twinkles; she can't ride the raptor to school. Alec, look forward to causing trouble at Arcadia." He plucked his keys and wallet from the bowl. "C'mon!"

Rachel would sit in the front seat, Twinkles in her lap. Alec and I sat in the back. And Atlas buzzed overhead.

(BREAK)

I'd only ever seen Arcadia in passing. It wasn't near the old house so we didn't often drive by it. Seeing it now, in person, really made me realize all over again how much of a shithole Winslow was.

At Winslow, the building was a depressing gray, the same color as prison walls. Metal detectors stood at the doors like picture frames for the most pathetic modern art display ever presented: they'd only been functional for a week or two before their first dismantling. The staff gave up on fixing them before a single school year was out. The plumbing was frequently backed-up, the bathroom mirrors were cracked or outright broken, the grass was dead, and the campus exterior – except for the track and field area – was a bleak hole.

Arcadia, on the other hand, looked like cartoon angels would start fluttering around playing lyres and trumpets. It had a proper campus, with trimmed hedges and un-cracked sidewalks and an honest-to-god fountain in front of the main doors. Of course, with the beauty came danger as well. The walls were high, with "decorative" metal spikes on the tops with a distinctive Gothic flair to help mask their true purpose. The parapets at the walls' corners and several superfluous mini-towers adorning the building itself had seams in their sides; no doubt they concealed something like gun turrets or missile launchers. I wasn't surprised in the least; Arcadia was, officially or not, Protectorate territory and they didn't want their new crop of heroes getting hurt.

_But they were more than happy to let the psychopath on probation torture innocent people, so long as it was out of sight and didn't draw attention_, said a very bitter part of my mind.

I admitted to myself that working alongside the Protectorate left a bad taste in my mouth. For every Miss Militia there seemed to be two Shadow Stalkers, and the Armsmasters in the middle certainly didn't help any. But I wanted to be a hero, to help people and make the world a better place. If I'd stayed a villain it certainly would have given me satisfaction to smack down the in-name-only heroes, but I'd be ruining innocent lives along the way. No, better that I deal with the morally dark-gray Protectorate if that was the cost to give the people real heroes.

The guard at the front gate radioed ahead to let someone know Taylor Hebert had arrived. I felt the bottom of my stomach drop out, countless situations playing out in my mind – all of them ending with me as the school's new pariah and resident freak of nature.

"Taylor," Alec said to me, "if anybody should be nervous, it's me. I'm the one related to a brainwashing serial rapist. Just calm down and go with the flow. It's how I deal with everything: just go in without any expectations and let yourself gravitate toward what works for you." He smirked. "How do you think I always manage to end up on the couch or in the fridge?"

"I thought it was just because you're a dick," Rachel sniped from the front seat.

Alec didn't miss a beat. "Well, that too."

Dad pulled the car into a space and I noticed three well-dressed security guards approaching us. They didn't seem wary and I could see no drawn weaponry, but I still found my hands clenched into fists so tight I could squeeze coal into diamonds.

My father stepped out of the car and walked over to them. I poured so much of my consciousness into Atlas that I was worried I might turn my body into a vegetable. With what little mind I left myself, however, I saw that he was smiling and having an amiable talk with the guards, two women and a man.

Atlas, like a scolding nanny, pushed my presence back into my body. Apparently he thought I needed to stop using him as a crutch. Dad came back and ushered us out of the car. Rachel led the way, holding Twinkles' leash.

I found myself looking down at a petite redhead who, despite logic telling me it was impossible, only looked a few years older than me. She extended a hand. "Nice to meet you, Taylor. I'm Beth and I'll be your guide for your first day here at Arcadia."

I spared a glance to the side and saw the others making similar introductions. "I'm guessing you don't do this for every new student." I didn't want to sound timid, so of course my voice instead had a hostile edge to it. Great.

To her credit, the campus cop didn't bat an eye. "Not for everyone, no, but whenever we get a new cape transferring in we have to give the tour to them and the other students we let in to cover for them." She gave me a sly smile. "Honestly, you three are the first parahumans without decoys we've had since the New Wave kids." She gestured back at dad. "I'll let you say bye to your dad before I steal you away."

I gave my father a tight hug and whispered into his ear. "If anything comes up, I'll call you. If anything bad comes up, I'll call the raptors."

"Be happy for me, little owl," he said before kissing my forehead. As I walked back to Beth I saw him pat Alec on the shoulder and then give Rachel a little hug, which left her both pale and blushing.

I followed the guard into the school building. "They forwarded me your schedule," she said while thumbing through her phone, "so I can show you the places you'll be going. Arcadia's big and has a lot of elective classes, so there are all sorts of places you can get lost." She led me past several large rooms, including a fully stocked science lab, before we came to a more typical classroom. "This is your homeroom. Math, English and History will all be held here. General Science and Chemistry are both in Lab 2, while PE is in the gym or outside. I'll show you those places in a bit. Now, as for electives, Writing for Theater and Film will be on the third floor, Gymnastics – well, you can guess. Intro PoliSci is just down the hall. C'mon."

Beth led me through the halls, giving me tips on which routes were best to save time getting from one classroom to another, as well as info on what not to do in certain classes. Apparently my science teacher had a raspy voice so I should try to sit near the front, and the professor for Writing for Theater and Film (wait, was it really abbreviated WTF? Had the class namers never heard of the internet?) hated stories about parahumans because he believed it to be a crutch.

And then we got to the gym.

(BREAK)

"...r? Taylor? Something's wrong, isn't it?"

We stood in the girls' locker room. I stood in front of my locker. It loomed before me, oozing darkness and hate while curdling blood dripped from the slats. The rest of the world fell away, dissolving like sand spilling between someone's fingers. I could feel my very soul emptying itself, leaving me a hollow shell. Part of me had died in there and now I'd been brought back to finish what had been started. I could hear my screams echoing from within it. I could hear my mother's screams.

I could hear Beth's whimpers.

"Taylor, please, call them off..." Her voice was soft and shaky, the sort of voice you hear when someone is afraid of an animal attacking.

I blinked and saw the locker in front of me. It was now just an ordinary metal box. Except for the fact that it, the rest of the lockers, the floor, my body, and Beth were all covered in a sea of insects. I gasped in realization and the bugs all did their best to imitate the sound of my sharp breath. "I'm, I'm sorry," I said as I ordered the creepy-crawlies to all go back to where they'd been before. "My trigger event, it was in a locker and...I thought I'd gotten over it but all of a sudden I was just _there_ and it was happening all over again and–"

The words spilled out of my mouth until Beth took my hands in hers. "I have friends in the National Guard. I fought in the war alongside them, watched some of them die right in front of me. I understand trauma." She looked me straight in the eyes. "You can't let yourself hide from it, build a little pillow fort and scream out 'trigger warning!' every time something reminds you of the worst day of your life. You'll only be hurting yourself more each time, giving your pain more and more power over you." She squeezed my hand. "You just have to keep going, forge ahead. For me, more than ever before I try to live my life to the fullest in honor of my friends who can't do that for themselves. For you? Maybe you just need to move on, prove to yourself that your trigger event wasn't the end-all be-all of your life."

I forced myself to laugh. "What are you, a psychiatrist?"

"Actually, yeah," she replied. "I'm studying for my master's right now."

I blinked. "Well, that explains that. And why they'd want you as a guard."

Beth nodded. "When you have somebody like Glory Girl, you need to be able to talk her down if things get dicey." She checked her watch. "Okay, we should get you back to homeroom."

(BREAK)

I sent some bugs ahead to listen in and see what was going on.

"...have a new student today," a female voice said. "She's a bit shy, so let's try not to give her too hard a time." By this point I'd gotten to the window and saw a rather hefty woman, her black hair in a loose bun. She turned to see me and gave a bright smile, beckoning me in.

I stepped inside and smiled shyly. "Hello," I forced myself to keep from mumbling, "I'm Taylor Hebert."

(BREAK)

I'd managed to avoid questions between classes and couldn't take off for the cafeteria fast enough. Of course, before I could even pick out a table, I was waylaid by one Victoria Dallon.

"Hey stranger," the blonde smiled. "Don't think you can just run away after popping up in homeroom."

I forced a smile of my own. "Well, I tried. I take it you're going to drag me off?"

"Of course," she beamed and dragged me off. Amy was at the New Wave table and she winced when she saw me. I returned the expression. Crystal Pelham gave me an awkward smile, really only knowing me as Skitter. "Sit down," Vicky insisted.

Figuring there was no use arguing with the stubborn blonde, I took a seat and offered Amy an apologetic shrug.

"Don't you want something to eat?" Crystal tilted her head, looking at the blank space before me.

"She doesn't have a digestive system," Amy replied, apparently by reflex.

"No doctor-patient confidentiality?" I was doing my best to be playful and keep the mood light, though it was difficult.

"Ames is a Striker, not a doctor," Crystal interjected.

Taking the chance to change the subject, I turned to Crystal and smiled at her. "I'm Taylor, by the way."

"Crystal," she returned the smile.

"Nice to meet you."

"Urf!"

I yelped and jumped, finding Twinkles at my butt. Without ceremony, Rachel shouldered me to the side and sat down at the bench's edge. The poodle sat obediently at her feet.

"...Hi, Rachel."

"People won't stop looking at me," she grumbled.

"Well," Crystal smiled, "you have a cute dog. People are gonna look." She offered a handshake, smiling wider. "I'm Crystal."

Rachel shrank back a little and actually growled.

"Crystal," I spoke up, "don't show teeth." She looked at me like I had frogs crawling out of my nose and I rolled my eyes. "Bared teeth. Sign of aggression. Don't do it."

The stocky girl stared at me, looking thoroughly confused. I gave her a little hug and, to her credit, she only stiffened a tiny bit.

"Everybody, this is Rachel, a close friend of mine. She just transferred in too and is making up for lost time."

"I hate you, this place and everyone in it," she said to me.

Victoria held up her soda. "I'll drink to that!"

"So how is it, being avowed capes in high school?" I posed the question to all three New Wave members.

"Kind of unavoidable for you, huh?" Vicky poked at my hair. "That doesn't hurt, does it?"

I shook my head, the chitinous locks rustling against one another.

"Well, honestly, it's not too bad. We mostly stick with each other, but I guess we're sort of boring to people. I mean, I paint, Crystal plays the trombone, and Amy doesn't do too much. Sure, people sometimes pester us about cape fights, but usually we're just the pretty girls who aren't quite popular." Victoria sighed. "It sucks that I can't play basketball anymore. Capes aren't allowed, obviously, especially considering my powers."

"Y'know," Rachel spoke up, "that's something I've been wondering: why don't we have parahuman sports teams? It could be like the Laff-a-lympics: everybody with different powers would make the games a lot more interesting, and those fucking sports drafts would actually be important for once."

Amy was the first to speak up. "...Laff-a-lympics?"

"It's a fuckin' cartoon," Rachel snapped.

"You've got a point," I said. "Wouldn't it make sense to open more avenues for parahumans rather than just criminal or crime-fighter? But Congress seems to disagree considering the laws that get passed." I shook my head. "You'd think they'd want the chance to reduce the number of superpowered fights in the country."

"I leave the politics to mom," Crystal muttered between bites. "I just blast baddies."

"If I ever decided to retire, maybe I could make a killing as an exterminator. 'Skitter's Spitters: they kill bugs dead!'"

Amy raised a brow. "Skitter's Spitters?"

"Yeah, I could bring in an insectivorous bug colony to hunt common pests, then leave 'em on autopilot with a command to avoid humans and animals."

Victoria pondered for a moment. "That...could actually be amazing. Problem is, you could easily succeed so much you'd put yourself out of business."

"Then I'd just need to invest properly."

"I think you have a Thinker rating," she replied. "If I remember right, Thinkers are banned from stocks, commodities and gambling. Among other things."

"That shit's the reason the term 'blessed with suck' exists," Crystal commented. "Sometimes makes you think powers are just more of the universe shitting on you after your trigger."

I looked at Amy and could tell we were both thinking Crystal was right. "I think the world's what you make of it," I said at length. "Just about anybody can find happiness, as long as they don't have some fucker actively making life terrible for them. You just might not find the kind of happiness you imagine you would." I looked down at my fingertips and briefly extended the claws. "The trick, I'm learning, is to roll with the blows. Yeah, my body's weird, I have a lot of problems and I've nearly died several times. But I have friends and a father who love me and I get to help make people's lives better."

The only other brunette at the table eyed me. "That was...surprisingly deep, Taylor. I think you might be right, too."

I gave Amy a cautious smile. "Thanks."

"So," Crystal's loud voice interrupted the comfortable silence that had been building, "what electives do you two have?"

Rachel got up and walked away.

"She's not much for talking," I said.

The silence afterward wasn't quite as comfortable.

(BREAK)

The remainder of the day went a bit smoother. Science and chemistry were relatively easy, particularly since I could use little bugs to take away individual grains of chemical components or to help visualize molecular composition. I got some sideways looks but it wasn't like there was a rule against arranging caterpillars and pillbugs to imitate molecules.

PE was a weight-training day. Pull-ups, kettle bells, free weights and bench presses. It was from this that I found out I could press nearly three hundred pounds and curl ninety. Gymnastics, on the other hand, was a wash. Apparently they'd lost my measurements so there wasn't a unitard ready for me. I spent the period getting re-measured.

Math was the final class and I found that it was much easier. Apparently my newfound multitasking ability helped me to somehow make advanced calculations in my head. I didn't really understand how that worked, but I wasn't complaining about the result.

(BREAK)

As the final bell rang, I made my way to the parking lot we'd pulled into that morning. I got lost a couple of times but my bugs helped me find the way eventually. When I arrived, Rachel was already there and Alec popped up just behind me.

"So," he said with a jaunty smile, "how were your classes?"

"I want to kill and eat everyone associated with this place," Rachel growled.

"Welcome to the high school experience," he smirked at her. "And how was my day, you ask?" His grin stretched as wide as it could without baring his teeth. "I just so happened to get the number of one Connie Bartlett, one of the hottest cheerleaders at Arcadia."

I wracked my brain for a good comeback. "You won't get anywhere with her, y'know." He raised an eyebrow at me. "If she went for you, she's obviously a closeted lesbian, girly-boy."

"Ouch! You're learning, padawan."

Dad chose this moment to pull in. "Heya, kiddos," he smiled as he unlocked the doors. "Hop in!"


	35. Interlude: Jack

**Interlude 4.y**

The Presidential was, like many small-town or roadside businesses, a relic of a bygone age. Following the advent of the Endbringers, travel mostly ceased and people congregated to the cities for Endbringer shelters.

The dilapidated motel was falling apart, only a handful of rooms still functional. It had been the site of several murders, cars left in the parking lot after being stripped for parts and valuables. One vehicle stood out, a heavily-built SUV with attached livestock trailer. While the car was rather battered and the trailer likely secondhand, neither had been torn apart. Someone was making use of the Presidential Motel.

The motel had at one time been a major stop-over off the main highway. Consisting of two stories of eight rooms each, it had done a fair bit of business in the '80s. While the outer rooms had suffered from storms, quakes and passing cape fights, three rooms on the upper floor were still viable. The Presidential's current occupants had opted for some quick-and-dirty renovation, knocking out the interior walls to make one massive, ragged space.

In the dim light of a single desk lamp and a muted television, a man slowly drew a razor along a leather strip, honing the edge. "You know," he said in a pleasant, conversational tone, "people get the wrong impression of us." Satisfied with the blade, he lathered his face with shaving cream and went to work in the mirror, speaking between strokes of the cutthroat. "They see the cape fights and think that's all there is, as though that's the be-all, end-all." With a practiced flick of the wrist he banished the accumulated cream from the razor into the sink. He shrugged in response to an unspoken comment, as though narrating a debate in his mind. "True, capes are better. More resilient. The very nature of trigger events means that most of them are survivors, able to fight harder and take more punishment. Give people hope, all that jazz."

A quick sweep of the blade in the warm water to clear off the residue and he was back at it. "But when you've been around as long as I have, when you've seen the rise of the Triumvirate, the arrival of the Endbringers, the death of Hero, you realize that parahumans don't have the monopoly on strength. Sometimes it's the ordinary people who can be the greatest heroes, or the most horrific villains. Capes? They have an excuse. Society forces them into a role and they _have_ to play hero or villain. Ordinary people? They get to choose. It's something that the public doesn't think about when you have Legend and Alexandria flying around, being so shiny." He continued, murmuring his words as he got down to detail work. "People without powers, they feel powerless so often, but they keep on trucking. Instead of giving up, they fight that much harder. I guess that's the human condition, huh? We're so desperate for independence and self-definition, yet we force our definitions onto others. We all want to be the authors of our own life story."

The razor was washed, dried and put away. A quick wipe with a damp towel got rid of the rest of the shaving cream and he gave himself a smile in the mirror. _Perfect_. The neatly trimmed mustache, the tiny patch of hair beneath his lower lip leading to the dusting on his chin, everything was in place. "So you see, that's why I like doing this kind of thing with normal people. Parahumans? They're used to being the center of attention. There's dread of – and preparation for – this kind of thing in the back of their minds. With you, on the other hand, it's a complete surprise when it happens." He strode over and ripped the duct tape off his captive's mouth. "Most of the time, people were more afraid of Gray Boy when he was around. 'Tortured to madness', they'd say. And it was true. A perpetual trap of pure agony, with no escape. But me? I always said he had it wrong."

The captive spat in his face. Doughy, balding, with eyes the color of sun-faded olive drab and a slight overbite, the man was completely unassuming. He was the everyman, doing nothing to stand out. That was why he'd been picked. "Fuck you, Jack. God_damn_, do you love to hear yourself talk."

That was interesting. The man knew he was going to die. Instead of cowering in fear or begging, he was defiant, arrogant even. It was something that always intrigued Jack, the different nuances in each person as they faced their deaths.

"Do you know how I figured out my power? I wanted people to hurt, yes, but I could have gotten a gun. Could've made a molotov cocktail. Instead, I grabbed a knife. The reason is more simple than you might think. You see, in my opinion, Gray Boy had it backwards. He used torture to spread fear, to hurt others. It's an understandable mistake; he was just a kid, after all." Jack opened a Swiss army knife and drew the blunt little blade along the outside of his victim's forearm, just barely breaking the skin. "Murder isn't the worst thing you can do to a person. You kill someone, their suffering stops. In my opinion," he raised his voice over the man's grunts of pain, "murder is how you hurt others. You take lives, spread fear and pain to the rest of the public. If you kill a father, his wife and children are left to suffer in his absence."

He leaned in close, cupping his victim's face, and drew the knife across the underside of his jaw. It didn't cut; just tore into the outer layers of skin, the pain bringing with it the knowledge how easily life could be taken. "No, torture is a much more intimate experience than Gray Boy understood. It's just between you and me, as I get to see every little quirk of pain, fear and anger you have." He flicked his wrist and ripped loose a small chunk of flesh from beneath the man's jawbone, smirking as the everyman groaned through clenched teeth. Even now, the captive tried to defy him, deny him the pleasure. But this wasn't about pleasure. It was about the experience. Good, bad, it didn't matter. Pain, happiness, morality, _purpose_, none of it mattered. It was the _moment_.

"I don't get off on other people's suffering. I'm not a sadist. I don't even really enjoy causing pain. This isn't some dark nihilistic philosophy about pain. It doesn't have a Freudian explanation where I'm a little boy just wanting to make other people feel as bad as I do. This? This just _is_." He wiped off the little knife and put it away, flicking open the straight razor once again. "This, between you and me, is truth." He cut down the man's shirt with such delicate precision that the razor never broke skin. "We see each other for how we truly are." He bent back the man's left ring finger, applying more and more pressure until the bone crackled. With the finger vertical, he placed the grip of the razor against a knuckle and slowly folded it shut, progressively crushing and cutting. It was slow, it was inefficient, but that was the point. "When everything else we can hide behind – society, jobs, family, friends, our very identity – is stripped away, we're left with nothing more than our own selves." His face curled into a brief snarl as, with an extra burst of force, he snapped the finger off. "And _that_ is what this is about," he said over his victim's piteous moans.

The moans rose in pitch and volume, becoming loud, throaty chuckles. He had to raise an eyebrow, regarding his victim with a strange mix of curiosity and...apprehension? This wasn't the broken, manic laughter of the defeated escaping into madness. No, this was haughty and superior.

"I believe you," the balding man replied. "I get how you see the world. And I might pity you, if I didn't truly understand. This is all an experiment to you, an attempt to see the true face of humanity, but you're exactly the same as the society you dismissed," he growled through the pain. His captor actually took a step back and lowered his weapon, inviting him to keep speaking. "You're fixated on parahumans as well. There are plenty of people, experts in their field, who could make amazing killers or otherwise support your little scheme. But you abandon them and go for the capes. Us, the ordinary people? We're cattle. Or lab rats. You study us, use us for your amusement. Unlike the capes, you don't even bother to learn our names." He locked eyes with his captor, lips breaking into a condescending sneer. "Raymond Marks." He let that hang in the air for a moment. "You're going to look into my eyes. And you're going to remember, _for the rest of your life_, that ordinary, pathetic Raymond Marks understands you. And he looks down on you. You're pathetic, Jack Slash. I know I'm going to die, but I'm going to die _laughing at you_."

And he did. Raymond Marks laughed. His laughter was hateful, derisive, deprecating.

His head was wrenched back and the razor tore through his neck. It wasn't a slitting of the throat; it was a barbaric cleaving. Blood and viscera sprayed as Jack's fist went through the parted meat. The laughter continued as a rhythmic popping of blood out of the ruptured trachea. Jack Slash stared at the body in disgust and washed off his hands before exiting the room. He left the door hanging open so that anyone who happened by would see the body in the chair and the numerous mutilated corpses piled on the beds in a cruel imitation of sexual congress.

(BREAK)

"What's so interesting, Atika?" The brunette toyed with the red streak in her hair as she used her traveling companion as a chair.

The glamorous Arab woman gestured at the computer. "I was trolling PHO, and look."

"Ooo, I wanna see!" A hyperactive blonde scampered over. "Wow! Case 53?"

"Doesn't look like it."

Cherie was going to comment but was sidelined by a new feeling. Well, not necessarily new. Confusion, anger, hatred, even self-loathing? She'd gotten used to feeling those. Got off on them to a certain degree, though nothing was as fulfilling as despair. What she wasn't used to was them coming from Jack. Had one of his victims somehow managed to work him up? The other presence, the feeling of superiority and condescension, finally winked out. Yes, that was probably what happened. "Jack's on his way back." She then rapped her chair on the head. "Hey, you should check this out. Bird, can you tab it so we can do a side-by-side?"

The enormous bulk shifted itself, nearly a hundred eyes opening and pointing at the laptop. "Mm," it rumbled, the sheer bass of the voice enough to shake the room ever so slightly. "That's...actually interesting."

"What is?" Jack Slash stepped inside, having taken a moment to compose himself. He'd managed to suppress the negative emotions quite effectively; Cherie was impressed.

"Check it," the Canadian girl gestured to the pictures. "New cape in Brockton Bay."

"Wait a sec," Bonesaw squeaked in her tiny, pixie-like voice, "isn't that where Panacea is?"

"And Elle," said a deathly pale and almost anorexically thin girl from across the room, where she was reading manga by lamplight.

"And Jean-Paul," Cherie continued. She turned back to the group's leader. "What do you say we make a trip to the Bay?"

Mannequin clacked his fingers together, demanding attention. When the group looked, he shook his head.

"Mannequin has a point," Jack admitted as he strode over to sit on the bed. "After the war, they've got a surplus of heroes and not enough villains to keep them tired. Even with the Teeth and that other new team, they've still got three hero groups plus the Wards. We're down a member anyway; going in there now would be a good way to lose more people. But... Atika, when's the next Endbringer attack expected?"

Shatterbird went to the official, PRT-sanctioned "Endbringer Countdown" site. "Looks like sometime in May or late April."

"Well then, let's do a little 'research' before our road trip. Once the next attack happens, we can get ourselves set up and have a surprise waiting for the good capes of the Bay when they get home."


	36. Insinuation 06

**Insinuation 4.06**

From her perch on the building's roof, Vista turned her head toward me. "Y'know, even without using my power to contract space and hear noises from a distance, that bug of yours can be heard from a mile away."

I smirked, arms folded, as I sat on Atlas in the saddle I'd designed for him. "Maybe, but I can see just about everything for several city blocks. I know what's there before it knows where I am." To demonstrate, I held up a finger and had a ladybug land on it. "For all intents and purposes, I _am_ the swarm.

Aegis took a step off his roof and Vista pinched the distances together so he didn't have to waste energy flying over. "So, are you alone?" he asked. "I mean, it's Ward policy to go out in pairs and there are six of you, so..."

I smirked, my lenses once again solid orange and rendering my true emotions inscrutable. "Oh, Imp's around." I might distrust Coil, but I wasn't going to turn down the paycheck. Every dollar he gave us was one he couldn't use for other plans. So, with Imp's power, getting her a souped-up scooter had been high up on our list of priorities. From the last glimpse I'd gotten of her, she was hanging out at ground level and helping to keep watch for anything I might miss.

"Yep!"

I yelped and, were it not for the leg straps, would have hopped off Atlas and plummeted to the street. "Imp! How the hell did you get up here!?"

"Oh, I drove over to a parking garage and did a series of sweet-ass jumps from there to here."

The Wards and I all blinked at that. "S-seriously?" Unlikely as it might sound, Aisha _was_ a little terror so it was a remote possibility.

She cackled. "Nah! I hopped up to the fire escape and climbed. Lucked out that you mentioned me just as I got to the roof."

I gave voice to the unspoken half of her statement. "...And if I hadn't, you'd have just lurked until I _did_ say something that pertained to you."

Imp hopped up to sit on Atlas' pincer. To the big guy's credit, he didn't even blink as she lounged on his implement of destruction. "You know me so well, dah-ling," she giggled, affecting a faux-posh accent. She then gestured at the Wards. "So, you gonna introduce me? I've never formally met these drips."

"I wonder why that is," I deadpanned. "Aegis, Vista, this is Imp. We never let her and Regent patrol together."

"What, that's it? Give 'em some horror stories, Skits! Make them fear the name of Imp!"

I facepalmed with a sigh. "I'm not sure anybody could do that, but I'll try." I turned back to the Wards. Aegis looked flummoxed while Vista was torn between looking scandalized or bursting into giggles. "Back during the war, we found out one of the households was hardcore ABB. Not actual gang members, but the kind who would – and did – make attempts to smuggle gangers into the neighborhood, where they figured they'd be safe under E88's radar. Now, these were civilians, so we couldn't just beat the shit out of them. We might've officially been villains, but even back then we didn't hurt people like that. So instead, the evil genius here has an idea." I let the information sink in for a moment while Imp preened, before continuing. "She camps out in their house for a week. Brings a pillow and a sleeping bag, sets up in a closet. Every day, she rearranges their furniture. Sometimes it's just little things, like an ottoman being across the room or a glass on the other side of the table. Other times, she spends the whole day to shove the couch into the dining room. By the end of the week, they're freaking out. Of course, when she starts to write satanic messages on their mirrors, that's when they decide it's the last straw. They left the territory and we moved refugees into the house the same day. Now," I addressed them directly, "imagine her and Regent on patrol together. Street vendors would end up painted like clowns and gangers would have their pants set on fire."

"At the very least," Imp confirmed with no small amount of smugness.

Vista clucked her tongue. "You sure you guys aren't villains?"

"Good and evil are states of mind."

I bopped Imp on the head for that one. "No, we're not still villains. We might have mostly unfriendly powers, but that plus being independents means that we can do things you guys can't."

"So why are you here?" Aegis was still regarding me with a bit of wariness, which confused me. "Last time you were out and about, you fought the Teeth and the Adrift."

"Oh," I chuckled. "No, we're just on patrol and I thought I'd stop by and say hi."

"In that case..." Somehow, instead of relaxing, Aegis became even more morose. "I'm sorry. About Shadow Stalker. I was there when Director Piggot reamed into the oversight committee, again, about Ward probation."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I, uh, thanks. Look, it hasn't even been a week and I really don't want to talk about it, so..."

Aegis held up a finger while his other hand went to his ear. "Aegis. Affirmative. We'll be back A-sap." He gave me an apologetic look. "Sorry. Apparently something's come up and the Wards are being recalled."

I nodded. "I understand. Don't let me keep you."

Aegis flew off, Vista easily keeping pace. Seeing her power in action, repeatedly, was a truly interesting sight. It was disorienting and the best approximation would be seeing through a glass of sloshing water. The horizon compressed and then snapped back, individual points shrinking or widening as she moved. Vista's form remaining constant amid the chaos only further confused the eye.

"So," Imp said to my bugs, "are we gonna keep patrolling, or we gonna find out what that was about?" She started her scooter and I realized that she must have left the conversation at some point and gone back down to her vehicle.

"You make the call," I buzzed back at her. Normal bugs couldn't imitate a voice anywhere near as well as my voicebugs could, but it was enough that you could understand it if you were familiar with the sounds. "Atlas is too loud for me to talk on the phone." I had an earbug tuck itself under the collar of her jacket so I could listen in as we continued our patrol route.

"Hey, Sight," I heard Imp say. "Something just came up that recalled the Wards. You got any news for us? ..._Shit_. Really? Okay, I'll pass it along. Wanna meet at the scene? Kay. See you there." She hung up and spoke to open space, knowing that I was listening. "So a whole Merchant drug house was slaughtered. Sliced to pieces, but apparently there are no weapons or signs of a fight. The rest of the team is gonna meet us there, so follow me."

We turned and began heading northwest, toward one of the ritzier parts of town. I didn't even know the Merchants had places there. Then again, before the war, they probably didn't. This had been Empire territory. Now, it was more of a no-man's land. The Merchants hadn't officially established control – likely because the rich bastards in their little gated neighborhoods would've called the mayor to get the National Guard in here again – and while it butted up against Adrift land, if you could call the empty mess they seemed to control 'territory', they didn't like to push into populated areas and preferred outskirts and condemned blocks.

Moreover, slicing didn't seem to be the MO of any of the Adrift. Yes, Circus used knives, but those were for throwing. She preferred sledgehammers or heavy axes for melee. Juggernaut could split people apart, but the hits were too rough to be considered slicing. Trainwreck? Maybe, but he was a showman who liked his oversized armors. There would've definitely been signs of a fight; hell, the whole building might've ended up leveled. No, this was something new. And I didn't like new.

(BREAK)

The former mechanic shop was cordoned off, several PRT troopers standing guard, including two with containment foam sprayers. We dismounted our respective transports and Cerberus let her dogs start to shrink.

"At ease, guys," Grue said as the troopers prepared for a fight, or at least to stonewall us. "We're here to examine the scene and see if Foresight can't give us some new info on what happened." He looked around. "Any other heroes here?"

The senior officer, apparently, nodded as he loosened his grip on his weapon. "Yes, Velocity and Miss Militia. She's currently examining the scene."

"Alright then," I said. "We'll go say hi." Before they could really process what had happened, Foresight and I were already past the police line and the rest weren't far behind. "Don't worry," I told them through a voicebug, "Miss Militia will appreciate the help. Trust us."

The building's interior was...a nightmare. Blood was splattered everywhere, body parts scattered around. From the heads, I counted at least a dozen dead bodies.

"Jesus fuck," Regent muttered.

Miss Militia stood in the middle of the carnage, studying it with an intensity I'd last seen when she killed Victor. At Regent's interjection, she looked over and saw us. Her eyes softened in what looked to be relief.

"Miss Militia," Grue said, "we heard about the killings and thought the Protectorate would appreciate our help in figuring out the who and the how."

Velocity's voice came from all around us. "I've checked all over the garage and surrounding area. No blood splatter or tracks. Nobody escaped, nor were there any other attacks." He blurred to a stop beside Miss Militia. "And, speaking for myself, the help would be appreciated."

"I agree," the dark-skinned heroine stated. "I can't make head or tail of this massacre." She gestured to one of the bodies, smoothly bisected. "He was clearly cut with a physical weapon, a single stroke slicing him in half." She stooped and waved her finger over certain areas. "The way the skin is torn and the viscera drawn out, it was sharp but not tinkertech sharp. My best guess would be a sword, but it would have to be at least a zweihander and wielded by someone with incredible strength." She straightened up and huffed. "The problem with _that_ is there's no sign of a fight. Other than the Merchants scattering in an attempt to escape, nothing indicates an intruder. Someone with a weapon capable of doing this kind of damage would leave _something_ behind to indicate his presence."

Grue's voice was quieter than I'd ever heard while he was in costume. "You don't think Jack Slash...?"

Foresight replied for her. "No. He favors small blades. While he can maximize cutting power and extend the blade, it would still leave cuts indicative of a small blade. These are large cuts. In addition," she pointed to other corpses, "some were impaled instead of cut clean through, and the damage indicates the blade was triangular. Isosceles rather than equilateral." At Cerberus' tilted head, she made a diagram with her hands. The bulky girl nodded in understanding.

"So," I mused, "what are we looking at, then? Stranger? No, they started running away. Brute to swing the thing, maybe Shaker to keep things in order while he cuts them up?"

Foresight snapped her fingers. "That could be something." She made a frame with her hands and looked through it. "We're looking at this as if it's murder with a single weapon. But Kaiser could create blades big and sharp enough to do this kind of damage. Now, he couldn't put the metal away once he'd summoned it, but it gives us precedent. We're most likely looking for a Shaker who can summon blades of some kind."

"Thank you, Foresight," Miss Militia said as she climbed piggyback onto Velocity. "Your insights are always appreciated. Skitter, likewise. You two make an excellent detective team." Velocity took off, whatever else Miss Militia might have said lost in the immense speed.

I looked over at our purple-helmed teammate. "Foresight? You're still staring at the bodies..."

"Please tell me you're not a necrophiliac," Regent snickered.

"I'm...worried," she muttered. "During the war, Oni Lee used an aspect of his power we'd never seen before. This?" She swept her arm over the carnage. "The slaughter of minorities, in former Empire territory? This screams 'Kaiser'." Foresight turned back to us. "If he's come out of hiding, I'm scared he has nothing to lose. His children are in custody and will be shipped away unless Purity behaves. His Empire is completely gutted. His reich dreams are dead. And if he can take metal away as well as produce it..."

"...Then there's pretty much nothing stopping him from going Mask of the Phantasm on everybody," Cerberus finished for her.

"Nice reference," Imp said from the doorway. She still hadn't come inside to see the corpses.

"And considering the part I played in bringing him down..." I couldn't help it; I swallowed hard.

"Huh. I've got a call from you-know-who," Foresight stated. She pulled out her phone and answered, the call being transmitted to the bluetooth device in her headset. "You've got Foresight. What's up?" Her stance became more irritable. "Seriously? Look, I don't know if we can do that. People _will_ see the connection, then you're out two assets. We'll do what we can, but I can't make promises." Seeing our inquisitive looks as she hung up, Foresight sent us all a quick text. _T active again. C wants no waves_.

Despite her grousing, it seemed that Rachel's remedial English lessons had paid off because she nodded to herself, perfectly understanding the message.

Before we could converse on that, we received another group text. _Somer's Rock, 3pm. –Faultline_.

We looked at one another, collectively shrugged, and decided to find out what she wanted.

(BREAK)

In the time since the last major meeting at the pub, Somer's Rock had not changed in the least. The pub seemed completely unchanged, although if a bomb had gone off it wouldn't have made much difference.

Faultline sat at the round table in the center of the pub, her costume just as dissonant as always. The welder's mask and kevlar vest stood out against the Japanese hakama and loose upper-body robes. To one side of her was the bloated form of Gregor the Snail and on the other was someone I didn't recognize, a pretty redhead wearing a shamrock mask and a green overcoat.

"Good to see you again." Faultline's tone was friendly but all business. "You know Gregor, and this is Shamrock, our newest recruit." She gestured to the table. "Please, take a seat." Once we were properly seated, she continued. "I wanted to invite you here out of professional courtesy. Since you're heroes now, I'm guessing you heard of the massacre?"

Grue leaned forward a bit. "The Merchants warehouse near Stableton Heights?"

"The same," Faultline responded. "Skidmark scraped together enough to pay our wage. We'll be playing bodyguard for the Merchants, while Shamrock is going to try to work on sussing out who's doing this."

"Oh," Foresight sounded excited, which often meant trouble, "you're a Thinker?" I could practically hear the gears in her head turning as she theorized about the new girl's powers.

"Not quite on the same level as you, but I make a good enough detective. While you're more Holmes-style deduction, I'm an expert at finding clues." Shamrock's voice was soft and low, a tone I was intimately familiar with. She was used to flying under the radar, trying not to draw attention. While she didn't seem to have the self-esteem or image problems I did, she definitely wasn't used to being the center of attention.

"Well," I spoke up, "since we're both interested in stopping a mass murderer, why don't we pool what we've got?"

Faultline gave a curt nod. "Shamrock, tell 'em what you found out. Maybe Tat, er, Foresight can get something new from it."

The redhead leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "Well, the main thing is, the blood splatter's off."

Regent tilted his head. "Blood splatter? The place looked like they filmed about eighteen Herschel Gordon Lewis movies in there!"

"Exactly," she smirked. "And, since there was so much gore, I'm guessing you," she looked to Foresight, "focused more on the bodies and how they landed to determine how they were hit. But," her grin was disturbingly close to mirroring Lisa's, "there were inconsistencies. Tiny gaps where there shouldn't be."

Foresight sat upright, excited. "...Because if a blade had bisected them, it'd have kept going. If there's a gap in the splatter pattern from the point of entry..."

"...Then that means something was there to block the splatter. Something that is no longer there, something narrow. And, since there are no other gaps in splatter to indicate another body..."

My teammate sat back. "...Then we're not dealing with another Shaker. We're dealing with Kaiser's exact power set. So either we've got an evil Eidolon running around or another Faerie Queen..."

Shamrock finished the exchange. "...Or this _is_ Kaiser's work and he's put aside idealism for straight-up butchery."

"Fuck me," Regent muttered. "Skinhead was bad enough when he was just playing at being Hitler. If he's decided to ditch the podium and jump straight to the ethnic cleansing... Shit."

"Admittedly," Foresight sighed, "Kaiser was our best theory at the time. We were just hoping it wasn't true."

"So," Gregor spoke up, his voice deep with a Scandinavian accent, "what is our next step?"

"Kaiser is likely fixating on former Empire territory," Foresight said as she leaned forward again, resting her chin in her palm. "If he doesn't try to bust out old loyalists like Hookwolf, we can expect him to go on a genocide spree against any 'impure' in his old stomping grounds. If we can convince the Protectorate that Kaiser is responsible and that he's not going to stop, perhaps we can put a kill order on him. Then all it would take is a spider or two, or a single shot from Miss Militia, and the body count stops in the double digits."

"A spider or two?" I held up my hands. "Look, I know I've...but I was being tortured! And I was on fire! I don't know if I could kill someone on purpose, with my head clear."

Grue rested a heavy hand on my shoulder. "And we're not asking you to. But, speaking as myself, I'd rather kill a criminal and have his blood on my hands than use kid gloves and let him murder others."

"Well look at you," Imp said from Regent's lap. When had she gotten there? On second thought, I decided I didn't want to theorize. "Just turned hero and already making big moral speeches."

Grue messed with her mask. "Hush, you."

"Alright then," Faultline said as she stood and her crew stood just after her. "Foresight, I figure you're going to provide info to the Protectorate. Would it be too much to ask for you to forward copies to me?"

I suppressed a wince. The rivalry between those two was well-documented.

"In the interest of stopping a serial-killing Nazi, I think we can work something out."

Huh, that was significantly less painful than I'd anticipated.

Grue stood and we took his cue. "It was good to meet with you, Faultline. I hope we can continue working on the same side."

As we left, Foresight hopped onto Atlas behind me. I could barely articulate my surprise. "Buh?"

"We should head over to the Rig and update the Protectorate in person." She smacked me on the rump and I yelped. "Mush!"


End file.
